


Escaping Ostagar

by Lathbora_viran



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Grey Wardens - Fandom, Ostagar - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 80,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8935840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lathbora_viran/pseuds/Lathbora_viran
Summary: Lieutenant Melisande Esra is second in command of the Ferelden Royal Guard for King Cailan Theirin. With the Captain pulled away to Redcliffe to discuss important matters with its Arl, she's left in command to try and protect the King from others and perhaps even himself in the battle to come. Still, everything seems to be shaping up and they had already secured several victories. Perhaps there isn't as much to worry about as the dour Wardens suggest. Cailan seems confident at least.





	1. The Night Before

“And then, the lad just keeled over backwards, so full of grog I swear I heard him slosh. Captain Mallon just looked at us and shook his head with a sigh, all dramatic like his old arse gets sometimes.” The inebriated storyteller puffed up, the look made even more ridiculous by his ruddy cheeks and the sparkle in his dazed eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “He says, ‘Boys… you get to clean him up in the morning. Andraste’s knickers, be nice to the bloody recruits. You were once that young… honestly sometimes I think you still are!’ He wandered back off to his fancy office and shut the door but we could still hear him laughing. Right fools we all looked at the early roster he called too.” 

Hearty laughter and a round of knee slapping made far too loud by gleaming armour, drew a faint smile and a roll of the eyes as an older man leaned into a woman and nearly shoved her from the log she sat on. “Aye, that one was funny and you sodding know it. Just cause you’re the youngest doesn’t mean you should act snobby, Melisande.” 

Oh, this required the best she could dredge up, after all they were needling her on purpose. Straightening and resisting a far larger smile with little success, an eyebrow arched imperiously above a stern gaze. Copping the best of Hightown’s accents, she gracefully brushed a speck of imagined dirt from the golden pauldron upon her shoulder. “As your superior,” her drawling had snickering starting already, “officer, I command a great deal more respect than that, Corporal Vance. I must insist that you use my given title, Lieutenant Esra.” 

That earned her a full push right onto her hip with a metallic clatter and a renewed chorus of cheers. This time she couldn’t help joining in and someone shoved a flagon into her hand as they helped her up.

The firelight illuminated the scene perfectly, red faces from mirth and intoxication along with the fanciful golden mabari armour the entire small group wore. Melisande had been aghast when Cailan had called them all in to show them the alterations but after several months and a few altercations to prove that they were as strong as they were ridiculously overdone, all in the Fereldan royal honour guard had gotten used to the pieces. It was a tad heavier than before with the additional ornamentation but she was happy to carry it if it kept her in one piece. 

As she listened to more of her comrades’ shenanigans, Melisande shook her head. Cailan had been so excited about this armour. Sometimes she forgot he had a head on his shoulders when he said things like, “People seem to think we’re important and all that, yes? Let’s look it! Shiny! Eye-catching! Everyone will stare in awe and jealousy. I like the jealousy part. Who wouldn’t want to be me? I’m glorious.” Rising, she nodded to her men and ignored her brother, “Right. Don’t forget we’ll have to kill things tomorrow. Lots of things. With beady eyes and terrible breath. Hopefully I don’t mistake any of you for the darkspawn. Make sure to get sleep enough to swing your sword straight. I’m going to sleep now before His Majesty wanders over here to start his tales of old glories speech again.”

A snort escaped as she turned away from shouts about how not like their mothers she was and headed back to her bedroll in the makeshift barracks. Ostagar. Every time Cailan came to speak with them about strategy she felt a little bit more caught by his spinning stories of grandeur. It was hard to avoid that with him, though. Cailan Theirin had always had an excitement and enthusiasm for life that was absolutely contagious. The man practically glowed whenever he started talking. If he ever stopped. Bless the Maker, she loved the fool. He’d done something right finally when he’d made Cailan a golden sunshine child. A light heart made this whole mess feel more manageable. 

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant Esra!”

The groan that escaped could be felt in her bones as she glanced mournfully at the chilled bedroll, damp with dew as night fell in the foggy Hinterlands. Bright green eyes tracked the dark until she saw the approaching man. “Mhm?”

The messenger was a skinny lad, hell he probably couldn’t even shave yet. He looked abashed as he realized what he had prevented. “Sorry, ma’am. The King is at a Council with Duncan and Loghain. He’s requested the highest present guard member be asked to join as well. With the Captain gone to Redcliff…” That meant her. Melisande couldn’t help a cringe before chuckling and nodding. Did Cailan ever bloody stop?

“You sent for me, Your Majesty?” With a professional snap the soldier stopped a few feet behind Cailan and Loghain in the ruined meeting hall, a gauntleted fist rising instinctively to the opposite shoulder with a short bow. 

“Right, yes. I wanted to make sure you and the men had a final overview of the plan before everything.” Despite the smile he tossed her way as he waved her closer, the steel in the blonde’s eyes shook her down to the grass she stood on. It wasn’t often people saw the mettle behind the mirth. “You’ve already met Loghain and Duncan, this is a new Grey Warden recruit. She and Alistair will be lighting the signal fires on top of the tower. Gentlemen, and lady, this is the second in command of the royal guard. I trust her and the Captain’s faith in her implicitly and they’ve trained hard to be a great help tonight.”

With the introductions made, Melisande stepped forward and resisted the urge to take a gauntlet off and rake black hair back from her eyes. Duncan made her leery, he cut an imposing figure for a man so quiet and reserved. There was kindness there, she was sure of that, but lords above the man could make stones tremble with a look. Made you want to stand straighter, look better, try for more than your best just to keep him from disapproving. With snappy gestures, Cailan detailed the plans for the charge and Loghain’s assistance as well as the plan for the Grey Warden’s signal. In less than an hour everything was done and they all parted to rest as much as they could, leaving Loghain and Cailan to bicker. 

The damp bedroll was the best thing she had seen so far that day, by then the relief of getting out of her armour was unmatched.


	2. Ostagar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... apparently things are as bad as the Wardens warned. We've still got this, right?

“Up! Everyone up! Armor on! Let’s get moving!” 

To be fair… she probably didn’t need to walk through her sleeping men carrying her breastplate and hitting it with a pauldron. 

The discontented, highly hungover, cursing was worth every minute of it though.

Making her way to her bedroll, she hid a grimace at the thought of having to sacrifice body heat to warm her clammy armour but that was the life and Maker she loved it. Right? With some help on the harder to reach buckles, she finally seated the armour correctly and set to inspecting her command. If Cailan wanted the Royal Guard to be pretty as a painting, then she would ensure that visual never lacked.

“Roslun, wipe off your greaves.”

“Cadry, that better not be rust on your tasset. These are brand new. It won’t be there when I come back.”

“Harrin, straighten your vambraces and couters, that can’t possibly even be comfortable but if you didn’t somehow notice the pinching now it would definitely catch your attention when it rips your skin off mid swing.”

The men hid their smirks at least until she had walked past them, for everyone’s benefit. The stern tone she had was also for everyone’s benefit. They’d been companions long enough that the respect was there and the paces they went through were only because they were expected. Dismissing them, she gave them time to finish preparing while she ate from her rations in her pack. 

“Right, talked with his Luminous Majesty last night. The solid plan now is to lure the darkspawn into a trap. Make them think we have smaller forces. Then when the Wardens light the signal fire from the top of the Tower of Ishal, and Loghain swoops around from the side and outflanks them with most our forces. Grindstone. Boom. Dead darkspawn all around. Our job, plain and simple, keep his sunny head on his shoulders. That will entail killing darkspawn, but that isn’t our primary goal. Keep Cailan alive at all cost, hear me?” Looking up from her dry meal, she sent them all a glance that had serious expressions returning. When all of them nodded in return, stubborn pride and determination fiery in their own eyes, she smiled faintly and stood. “An honour, truly. Drinks are on me once this is done.”  
A mailed fist tapped her chest firmly, her men returned the gesture as the nervous anticipation of the coming battle finally began to set in. 

The next hour or two was a blur as officers bellowed commands and the Royal Guard drifted in to take their places near King Cailan Theirin of Fereldan. The pieces were falling into place and the dark of night was lingering longer than anticipated. It was early yet but it still didn’t sit right with the Lieutenant. Injured scouts screamed of running, of ground and air corrupted, of no hope. It didn’t combine well with the chill and dark. True this was her first major battle… Hells, she tried to shake off the dis-ease rising and took a heady breath of Hinterland mist. They would win. They had to. Cailan’s faith, Loghain’s experience, and Duncan’s wisdom was a vicious combination she was happy to be on this side of. 

It felt like she had blinked but now soldiers stood in silent rows and no one smiled. All eyes were on the glittering spectacle of Cailan Theirin at the head of their small force, Duncan calm at his side.

The forest was alive with fire. 

“Archers!” The Lieutenant didn’t look back as a few men tried to back up and were reminded to stand strong by the rows behind them. She couldn’t blame them. She had no words for… whatever hell this was coming at them. Melisande couldn’t see the end of the horde. The guttural roars were terrible even from this distance yet Cailan didn’t flinch. They had a plan.

A sparkling rain answered the rage of the approaching mass, bodies collapsing as limply as water only to vanish beneath the feet of those behind them.

“Hounds!” Shadowed forms raced towards the opposition, her eyes darting this way and that to follow the shapes as they hurtled into the darkspawn vanguard. A tight swallow and she tried to ignore the bead of sweat rolling down her temple as her heart raced and her arms tingled with cold. One hand clenched reflexively to avoid flinching as a mabari was impaled on a pike and tossed overhead with its momentum into the horde.

The last few hours had been seconds, why then did these few seconds feel like hours?

Was that? The scent of burning incense caught her attention and soon after she heard a murmur of prayer. Right, the chantry sister pacing the ranks offering her blessing. Silly to think she’d forgotten about that enough to startle herself. 

“For Ferelden!” Cailan’s arm shot up, sword in hand, and with a vast war cry he led them forward as soon as the blighted creatures were close enough that she could see skeletal faces and sharp, blackened teeth. Soulless eyes. 

Then they were in the thick of the battle, swords cutting as they fought not to break ranks. 

Lieutenant Esra cleaved her way through with powerful swings of the heavy greatsword she wielded, her eyes fixed on Cailan’s back as she struggled not to let the distance between them grow.


	3. Staying Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Brecilian Forest, Esra eeks out a living trying to stay as low to the ground as possible, ten years after the events of Ostagar. A nightmare that never seems to end and stalks every move she makes. Cut off entirely, she would prefer to keep it that way but events unfolding might prove a threat to her comfort zone.

Esra thrashed awake so desperately that pain lacerated her skull where it had connected with the wooden post of the low bed only to spread as she ended up on the floor from the waist up, her legs tangled badly in the rough cloth of her blanket. For quite some time she simply lay where she had fallen, watching the changing angle of the dim light on her ceiling as the sun drowsily rose over the Brecilian Forest. 

If she moved, she was sure she would be sick. It always happened that way. Try to shake off the terror too quickly and rise with the force of will only sheer pride and stubbornness could create only to wind up on her knees staring at last night’s pitiful meal. Her entire body still shook and she could feel the tingle along her cheeks as colour tried to return to a face she knew would be ghost white. Carefully she tested the spot she had smacked and decided it would only be a lump and she wouldn’t need to do a damn thing about it.

Why did it always start there? Wasn’t remembering bad enough without reliving the before? The companionship and the connection? It was sheer cruelty that she be made to recall all of that only to lead into what was without question the worst night of her entire life. Ten years… why couldn’t it just let her go already?

Finally dragging herself up as something bleated outside, probably a herd of halla on the move, she gave a chest in the corner a contemptuous glare before fussing with a loaf of three-day old bread wrapped in a cloth and searching for a knife to cut it. 

She should just sell it for scrap metal. It wasn’t like she would ever be fighting again. Even in the highly unlikely event that happened, it was ruined. There was no way it would ever work again. With the kind of money some smiths would give to melt it down and forge something new, she might be able to fix her fence after the wolves tore through it. 

Vance always had that idiotic guffaw, it only got worse when he was drunk. He sounded like a druffalo.

Growling under her breath, she gave up on the knife and tore pieces of the bread to eat while shrugging into a heavy jacket and making her way outside. Each step grew easier though a list remained in her right leg that kept her from looking completely steady on her feet.

The day’s tasks were simple and arduous, enough to keep her focus and hopefully tire her out. Shit, she would probably need to visit the Dalish today too and restock on some of the more necessary things that she couldn’t grow or make herself. At least they had never asked questions when she stumbled in looking like a corpse. Later. That could wait till later.

Gingerly kneeling, coarse hands busily began pruning elfroot shoots and made a careful examination of her crystal grace. At least the halla hadn’t destroyed it with the fence down. It would only be a matter of time and it was so hard to get a hold of seeds, the fence would have to be repaired today or tomorrow. The embrium was doing much better now that she had gotten rid of the tree limbs that had been shading it. The spindleweed was encroaching on the royal elfroot though, it would have to be cut back. Easily enough done. 

Absorbed into her work, only the heat brought her focus back to what was around her. Glancing down at the rescued royal elfroot, she tossed the cuttings of spindleweed into a basket with the elfroot she had trimmed and wiped her forehead with a smear of dirt. Heaving a sigh, knowing she couldn’t avoid it any longer, Esra went back inside and settled her basket down on the hewn table. Grabbing a dented metal bowl, she ventured to the well and the first two pails went over her plants. The third filled her bowl which she brought to the table. 

Feeling like she hadn’t slept in days, Esra quietly rinsed the dirt from her arms before using a small cloth to wash her face off and cool the back of her neck. At this point she was almost as tanned as a Chasind, though none would mistake her for one. Black hair was cut to her shoulders but only grew on the right half of her head, sweeping down straight. The other half of her head was shaved down and deeply marked by scarring that twisted the skin. Half of that ear was missing. The source of them was indeterminate, it could no longer be told if it was a blade or an animal. 

Stretching, a hiss left clenched teeth as muscle pulled and caught on scar tissue across her torso, hidden by the thick tunic and jacket. Pulling on old leather boots, she grabbed a bag and an axe and made her way along the trails towards the Dalish encampment. The elves had taken a while to grow accustomed to an unknown shemlen settling in their woods far north of their dwellings, but her seeming interest in learning how to politely interact had won them over after almost a year. Half a decade later, they at least called her lethallan instead of shem. It was an improvement, along with the approval to trade with them. Winters had been long and harsh until then.

“Andaran atish’an, lethallan. You are expected.” The woman nodded to the elf who spoke as she stopped at some intangible line just before entering the encampment. Past him, she could see Keeper Lanaya conversing with someone using calming gestures. 

“Andaran atish’an. May I? I just wanted to pick up some supplies and see if the herbalists could use any of my cuttings from the last few weeks.” With a faint gesture, she waited patiently to see if they would allow her to enter their domain. 

“Lethallan, you know by now you don’t need permission to enter the camp. You are welcome here.” 

A twitch of a smile showed, pulling at a scar that marred the corner of her mouth and down her jaw. “Ma serannas. It’s habit, ir abelas.”

The hunter shook his head and stepped aside as if she needed further invitation, “A pretty habit, but unnecessary I assure you. Garas in. Your pronunciation is almost flawless now.”

Esra shook her head, “Only for a few words. You all are incredibly patient sometimes. Dareth shiral.”

Parting ways, she approached the herbalists to discuss the dried elfroot, spindleweed, and embrium that she had far too much of. Casually she bartered and traded, practicing a bit of elven here and there. 

“Aye, tears in the sky. There’s talk of war from the shemlin lands.”

What in the name of… no. No. She was not going to get… no. She needed to get away. The back of her neck tightened and a small voice whispered that they could all see the sudden speed of her heart and the way the ground tilted beneath her was obviously from her own swaying. They would all notice. 

Wrangling a grip on her calm, she smiled her platitudes and promised to bring her herbs down to exchange the next day. Fairly certain she didn’t look like she was fleeing, Esra began the long trip back to her cabin. It was lost in the expanse of the northern Brecilian Forest, no one could find her there unless she desired it. Surely nothing would come of this. Tears in the sky? Trade route rumours were always spun out of control. Humans warred constantly it seemed, and it likely had something to do with the fighting between the mages and Templars. That hadn’t reached her and neither would this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shemlen - meaning "quick child", elvhen word for humans
> 
> Lethallan - casual term for someone you are familiar with, -in for male and -an for female usually, similar in meaning to "cousin" or "clansman"
> 
> Shem - quick, fast. Also a shortened usually derogatory version of shemlen
> 
> Andaran atish'an - Formal greeting "Enter this place in peace"
> 
> Ma serannas - Thank you
> 
> Ir abelas - I'm sorry
> 
> Garas in - Garas is come, In is with or inside to dwell
> 
> Dareth shiral - Parting phrase "farewell" "Safe journey"


	4. A Very Nice Demand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeper Lanaya is tired of your shit, Lieutenant.

“Damn it all!” 

There would be no sleep tonight. Stepping into the cold night, the drift of the stars indicating that she had barely slept a few hours before the nightmares had woken her again. It had been getting worse the last few days. It had to be the rumours from the Dalish encampment. Even more whispers had been flying when she had returned to deliver the dried herbs she had traded for. A massive rip in the sky, unholy beasts falling out of glowing holes across the land, wars raging across Orlais and the Free Marches. 

It could all just stay the bloody hell away. 

Fuming still, the fear and illness burning away into anger, Esra grabbed the lantern by the door and lit it with a few sharp movements. Carrying it with her, she approached the broken fence of her garden that still hadn’t been repaired, setting the light on a post that remained solidly upright. Gripping a recently sharpened axe in her stronger right hand, she stepped out into the wilderness at the edge of the lamplight to take her frustrations out on something that couldn’t fight back.

A short hour later Esra dumped an armful of logs onto the ground and began the arduous task of digging holes to settle them into and fill back in. Testing the posts for stability, she gathered a waxed ball of rope to lash more logs across and complete the barrier as the dim light of early dawn began to creep up. 

“Andaran atish’an, da’len.”

Startled, Esra jerked hard enough to set her back on her hip on the ground. Instinctively one hand reached for the axe but stopped as Keeper Lanaya’s familiar form stepped into view. “Da’len? That’s a first, Keeper. Andaran atish’an but… what are you doing here?”

Quietly the regal Dalish crossed the garden, crouching down and taking Esra’s hands, noting the abrasions and cuts from the night’s toil. “I know. We haven’t been the warmest to live with. You’ve proven yourself more than enough, falon. The illness grows worse, doesn’t it? I gave you your space but, da’len, we can all see the toll it takes.”

A deep frown creased her face as she resisted the sudden urge to yank her hands back from the gentle clutch of the elf across from her. “Illness? I hardly…”

“Venavis.” The stern command took Esra so completely by surprise that she indeed complied. “Da’len. Falon. You need help, this is no way to live. Go to your people, they can guide you back from this… banal’ras. Please, you have become more dear to us than most shemlen can claim, we want to see you well. You need help and they need help, go to them.”

“Keeper, I don’t want this. I want to live in this calm, quiet little garden and be at peace. Is that so much to ask? Don’t make me give up what I’ve built here.” Chagrin and a keen edge of desperation darkened green eyes. The Dalish had never questioned her before and her presence had been accepted with all her faults.

“Da’len. Calm? Peace?” A slender hand pointed to where the sun still hadn’t fully rose to set back the night. “You have no calm or peace here, only lies you tell yourself to keep the madness at bay. I will allow one of the hunters to help you traverse the Hinterlands. They’ve changed a great deal since your return from the Free Marches.” A firm hand cupped her cheek as the home she’d tried to build crumbled. “Come home once you’re healthy. Before your pain draws demons, da’len. Before it kills you finally.”

Esra stared, struck dumb and mute for a moment in pure shock. A sigh escaped as her head dropped forward and one hand pressed to her eyes. “Demons…” Honestly, she could care less about fighting them herself but if Lanaya wasn’t exaggerating and her turmoil was drawing things near the clan, she could not risk them. “You say I can come back?” 

“I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t feel it necessary down to my bones, falon. You are Vhenallin. We cannot save you from this darkness you carry. Save yourself. Then come home. I will ensure your dwelling is undisturbed and your garden tended.” Lanaya’s deep eyes relaxed as she leaned in and pressed her forehead to Esra’s. “It will be strange with you gone. It’s been eight years, you realize? This still haunts you. You are a warrior, da’len, you always will be. Go out and defeat your demons, return in enasalin. Your hunt be guided. Shall I send for a hunter?”

Well… that was better than nothing if Keeper Lanaya was going to force this matter. The determination of the Dalish woman was stronger than steel, Esra knew better than to even try and negotiate out of this. Lanaya would chase her off if she had to protect her clan, an admirable devotion and strength even if it was currently against her. “No, Keeper. I know the Hinterlands and I won’t risk one of yours. I’ll travel alone. Where am I going?”

“Haven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andaran atish'an - formal greeting "Enter this place in peace"
> 
> Da'len - endearment "Little one"
> 
> Falon - Friend
> 
> Venavis - Stop
> 
> Banal'ras - Shadow
> 
> Shemlen - Term meaning "quick child", elvhen term for humans
> 
> Vhenallin - "Friend of the People" meaning of the elvhen
> 
> Enasalin - Victory


	5. The Hinterlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First I want to say to anyone who was even slightly interested in reading this, I'm very sorry for the delay. I had every intention of getting to a more regular posting schedule but some unexpected problems cropped up. Not making excuses, just apologising. If you want to give me another chance I'll post a couple to get caught up and then start posting one every week on Sunday.

It took only a few minutes to gather the few possessions Esra had maintained during her isolation. In fact, she had only brought one item with her from her life before the endless Brecilian Forest had swallowed her without a trace. Turning to the beaten and crooked chest that gathered dust in the dimmest corner of her patchwork cabin, Esra considered leaving it behind now. The weakness of the moment was brief, however, and with a scowl she approached it and heaved it away from the wall.

The burlap sack nestled within was frayed in places from use and, as the woman hefted it, it clanked noisily. With a decent amount of effort, Esra brought the entire sack outside where Keeper Lanaya waited quietly accompanied by an elegant halla from the herd. Esra arched a brow in no little disbelief, “You’re not giving me one of the halla. I expected something less… important.”

Lanaya’s expression was mirthful and perhaps a little mischievous as she glanced up, “Da’len, you need someone who will keep you from getting lost on your way. Accidentally or on purpose. Besides that, you are a friend and we want it known that we wish you well. This halla will know how to find his way back if he is no longer needed.”

It was hard to argue her points… or her digs. The Keeper probably expected her to get within sight of this place called Haven and bolt, perhaps not without cause. “Very well. How far is Haven from here?” Frown firmly in place, Esra carefully fitted her two packs onto the back of the halla to make sure the creature wasn’t made uncomfortable or thrown off balance by the weight. 

“Not a terrible way and mostly a straight path but it will take a few weeks and I doubt it will be peaceful. Templars and mages alike haunt the roads and woods like carrion birds, let alone the reports I’ve received of demons and rips in the fade. Da’len, please be wise about your movements. The most direct path would be from our camp to Redcliffe. Past them, the village of Haven I’ve heard is just within the grip of the mountains and a bit further north but the villagers of Redcliffe village will surely be able to provide you more information.” Keeper Lanaya grew tense and reached out a slender hand to give Esra pause as she nodded and turned to leave, “Come back to us, da’len.”

That had been nine days ago, and Lanaya’s warning had proven more than accurate. Past the relative safety of the edge of the Brecilian Forest, things had quickly deteriorated. The first few encounters had taught her to avoid the tempting passage of the West Road. It was overrun and mostly on fire. The darkspawn hadn’t even done as much damage as these rogue factions seemed to be capable of. After deciding to venture further into the wild Hinterlands while avoiding the ruins of both Ostagar and Lothering, Esra found herself besieged on more than one occasion by wolves in packs driven mad by encounters with demons. 

On the twelfth day, the desiccated husk of the southern Imperial Highway just out of sight at her back, everything went wrong at once and Esra found herself face to face with the first demon she had ever seen. It was a tall, gangling thing that almost looked like it was made of branches. Its torso was narrow like it was starved and its skin green with a gaping maw in its face that screamed. Shrieked, even. It sent cold slivers down her spine and froze her in her tracks. Muscle refused to move until the sound abruptly cut off, nausea swirling through her gut as a hand went unconsciously for a hilt over her shoulder that wasn’t there. 

Esra hadn’t wielded a weapon of more threat than a shovel in nigh on ten years now. 

The halla made the first move without a single sound, lowering its antlered head and charging the beast across the clearing from them. The sharp points barely connected before the creature leapt high and then dove at… no it dove right through the ground and vanished from sight with a ripple of sickly green light. Swiftly, shaking off the panic that had infected her, Esra glanced around the site to determine where their foe was and if there was anything to be used as a weapon. A large enough branch with a broken tip caught her attention and she made to step towards it. Incredible force knocked the air from her lungs and the world spun, her shoulders connecting with the ground first as her mind struggled to connect the dots. The demon rose above her with its impossibly long arms shaking in angry challenge, having appeared again from the ground right beneath her. 

Once more it was the Keeper’s halla who put up more of a fight than she could as that soul shaking screech came again through the dark gap where a mouth should have been. It reared back and flailed hard hooves at the unnatural thing’s back, throwing it off for just a moment. A moment was enough, the sound stopped and with trembling legs Esra leapt up and lunged for the branch she had seen before. It leapt after her and landed above her once more, stars sparkling in her vision when a heavy blow caught the back of her neck. Still, cold fingers were firmly wrapped around crumbling wood and it took only a rush of adrenaline from her success to roll over and force branch up into its chest with as much weight as she could muster. 

For a few long moments, the opponents simply stared at each other. Neither was incredibly certain what had happened or what could be the expected result. Then a breeze picked up and the tall being began to fold and crumble into dust. Eventually Esra was left staring blankly in shock at a darkening sky with a branch in her hands and not a sign of the beast to be seen. Finally, grey eyes flickered to the halla which had paced over to look down at her, “Thanks. Right. If I can’t steal one between here and Redcliffe, we’re trading for a sword at the village.”


	6. Unwelcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding Redcliffe Village fortified and hostile to unknowns approaching their gates, Esra searches the area for supplies and mislaid weaponry in an attempt to forge a way to Haven despite having only a vague idea of the correct direction.

Maybe they should have foreseen that the village of Redcliffe would be entirely closed off from visitors. It wasn’t like those approaching the thick walls were searching for tea and scones, after all. On that note, the last time she had been this close to Redcliffe it had most definitely not had walls like it did now. They must have built the entire area up after the fifth Blight. Grudgingly Esra had to admit Keeper Lanaya had been right about the Hinterlands being almost unrecognizable after so many years. 

Turning her head still ached from the bruises she had gained fighting a demon almost three days hence, making surveying her options a bit uncomfortable. Esra and her halla lurked in the forest barely within sight of the latticed gateway into the fortified village. The closer they had gotten to this place the harder it had become to find safer paths through the more populated areas of the Hinterlands. Insanity raged in the name of war around the farms and homesteads, the trees and rocky fields lit here and there by a sickly green glow which mimicked the vast whirlwind splitting the sky.

It had taken days to get used to seeing the weird thing, present night and day to bathe the land in its unnatural light. Esra still didn’t like to think of its existence or what it could mean, preferring to keep her mind on tasks more within her capabilities. They were almost out of food; the journey was taking longer than she had surmised due to the obstacles. She had underestimated the chaos and if she didn’t resupply and find something to defend herself with it had the potential of being her final mistake. Redcliffe looked like it was no longer viable, perhaps a homesteader would lend a hand in exchange for protection. They had passed a few houses burned and collapsing, perhaps things had been missed by looters. She had a feeling it was more likely that some terrified villager would trust her enough to accept a trade without gutting her than the waves of looters leaving a weapon behind.

Saying it would be risky would be like calling the Qunari invasion of Kirkwall the mild disagreement it essentially was, but they would have to search the ravaged lands to seek out what they needed to continue the increasingly wearisome trek to Haven. This had better be worth it or words would be had with Lanaya if she lived to make it home.

Despite the white coat of the halla, the dead of night proved easier to traverse. The fighting didn’t stop and neither did the demons but if they moved slowly enough no one noticed their presence amidst all the other distractions. Killing each other for instance. Esra kept a heading in the general direction of the now even more implausible sanctuary of Haven. How the blazes were they going to find a village with no direction? Luck? They seemed to be running thin of that.

Shaking herself slightly, Esra refocused on the more pressing issue of arming herself. If she died it wouldn’t matter if Haven was halfway to Orzammar or twenty paces from her face. Several hours of searching dredged up a few isolated Templar outposts but nothing incredibly useful. The Templars would have more than enough supplies and equipment but they would never hand it over peacefully and she was not prepared to take on a trio of Templars at once. Theft was a possibility but it still seemed ill advised. There had to be a better way, maybe a refugee encampment somewhere that could be of assistance. 

Turning back towards Redcliffe and a little more south, Esra and her halla ventured back through the wilds around the village. Light began to dawn although it had never truly been too dark with the tempest above them. Sounds of fighting grew closer almost as swiftly as the sunlight did and less than an hour later Esra discovered the road again. It looked like the Imperial Highway and it was swamped with battling mages and Templars. Roads were obviously still a bad idea. Changing direction once more, the unlikely pair kept the sounds of intense fighting to their right and stayed a wide distance from it while heading west. The day was unseasonably bright, clashing with the tear in the sky and the general atmosphere of the Hinterlands. 

A gurgling rush eventually caught the soldier’s attention, swift running water generally meant more homesteads. They could follow it away from its source and wherever it calmed there would be more potential for farms and supplies. With a quicker step Esra followed the downward slope of a rocky ravine and carefully sidestepped an agitated druffalo. As the river came into sight the land tilted even more deeply, causing her to watch her footsteps carefully whilst finding her path down into it. Across on the other bank its slope rose again and while her line of sight was blocked by it, it seemed to open past the hill. It was worth a shot at the very least. 

The water was icy around Esra’s feet as she splashed into it, the halla ahead of her and almost to the opposite bank. Two steps from dry land and a crackling cacophony made her heart sink as she twisted sharply. There, far up above where she had expected to find enemies, was one of those smaller tears. It whirled erratically and spires of green light pulsed out from it. Running was the only option here but slick rock made it dicier. Being as careful but as quick as possible, Esra followed the halla and was almost at the bank when freezing pain made her vision go white. 

Dimly she felt strong fingers clutch at her and send her tumbling into the water which now moved sluggishly about her body with crystals of ice. As reality began to creep back in, Esra caught a glimpse of a shrouded grey figure floating yards above her and much nearer was an even larger version of the green creep that she had fought before. This beast was what had thrown her and now it came down with hands greedily reaching for her head as the dimness she fought overwhelmed her.


	7. An End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped by a despair demon and a greater terror in a realm of nightmare, half frozen by their first attack, Esra relives nightmares.

With a grim countenance the golden warriors cleaved through the onslaught to their king’s side. Duncan was nearby but he looked very concerned by the way the battle was turning. They needed Loghain and his men, surely any minute now the trap would be sprung well enough that their reinforcements could sweep in.

A breath seemed to last an hour, twice Melisande had been knocked flat only for a fellow soldier to heave her back to her feet. Constantly she glanced back to the Tower of Ishal, praying for some relief. They wouldn’t have many left if these fools wouldn’t hurry up and join the fray.

Then it happened. 

As their forces grew more scattered from the sheer ferocity of the oncoming horde, relief as palpable as warm sunlight caught the soldiers as brightly as the fires which now burned from the tower in the background. Some glanced back at it hastily while others simply dug for a second wind and renewed the vigour of their fight. 

Still others, however, paled and stopped in their tracks. Melisande could see her brother a few yards ahead of her, his sword tip touching the ground and his body slack as he looked past her. A strange coldness coiled through her stomach as she hesitated and then mirrored his glance.

They were… leaving.

Melisande knew then what her brother felt, though to a lesser extent perhaps. He idolized Loghain while she had simply admired his military experience. Each heartbeat slowed and ached, the entire world seemed in slow motion now. Everything went cold as it spread from her stomach to her mind and limbs. Quietly she turned back to her brother in time to see a ravening darkspawn cut him down without any resistance. The Lieutenant doubted the man had even realized it was happening before he died.

Across the field, she could see the realization sinking in as the light they had felt went out. Now the flames engulfing Ishal mocked them coldly. Scores simply couldn’t gather their wits enough to continue, mostly the younger recruits. It was painful to see them fold like parchment. Those left had no life in their eyes, they threw themselves at the enemy with a now single-minded desire to take down what railed against them.

These people knew they were dead. They only wanted to take the bastards with them when they went. 

A red-haired officer bumped into her, Melisande recognized her but the name wouldn’t come. Something Orlesian like herself. It didn’t matter, she gripped the woman’s armoured shoulder. “Get out. Get everyone you can find even if it’s only one other person and get the hell out as far as you can. We need anyone to survive and warn the villages around here, go!” 

Shaking the fugue off and knowing the battle had to be controlled for anyone to escape, the shaking soldier turned back towards the King. He and Duncan were swamped in the thick of the battle at the front line. Even from this distance she knew they had figured out what had happened. Duncan looked calm, not peaceful but ready though she wasn’t sure what for. Cailan… the anger in his eyes added to the steely determination as he clenched his teeth and kept swinging.

She needed to get them out. If she could rally enough of the guard they could reach the King and the Grey Warden, perhaps shield them as they retreated. Those two lives were essential. 

Plan formed, both hands gripped the heavy sword and Melisande pushed forward through the writhing mass of Hurlock and Genlock. Nothing slowed her until an errant blow from a Hurlock knocked her helmet clean off her head and sent her spinning to the ground. The corresponding attack could have been avoided if she had not found herself face to face with Vance’s empty husk. His face was grey and she could still hear his idiotic laugh from the night before. Pain ripped through her and blinded her as heat spread across the left side of her head. The source of it grew obvious as she managed to stumble to her feet a moment later, weaving terribly and trying to heave her sword up despite her dizziness. The Hurlock had spiked gauntlets, when he had hit her it had probably ripped large tracks along her head and face. 

Dispatching this one proved difficult even as she regained stability but her helmet was impossible to find. Looking up to find King Theirin, dread filled her entirely. A massive ogre was driving its way across the battlefield in patchwork armour, waist up taller than everyone else about him. Forgetting her helmet as lost, she freed her blade from the steaming corpse of the darkspawn she had just run through and made a massive effort to reach the King’s side with resolute purpose. 

So great was her focus that the first blow caught her completely by surprise. It came from her left side which was half blinded already as blood coated her face and made it hard to see. This Hurlock was larger, an Alpha from the look of him, a hideous grin on his skeletal face as he leaned in over Melisande. His sword had carved up through her armoured side to catch on her ribs, likely not hitting anything too important but certainly the threat of blood loss was imminent. The agony had made her curl slightly, doubling over his blade. She stumbled to her knees as he wrenched it free of her body and took another swing. Melisande blocked it with a mailed arm, though the sharp ice of sensation let her know it had broken something in her left wrist or forearm. 

Sheer luck bought her more time as a side-winding fireball knocked the Alpha back into the melee by several feet. Abandoning that fight, Melisande desperately forced herself to her feet and launched another attempt to reach Cailan. 

If time had been slow before, it stopped altogether as she witnessed the next moments. 

It seemed impossible that the hulking darkspawn could snatch Calian up in one hand. The man had always seemed so larger than life, it conflicted with the idea of him held like a doll. The roar it uttered never reached her deafened ears through the shock her mind was sinking into. Every ounce of faith and raw will reached out as if to stop what would happen with her mind alone only for it all to fail as the beast clenched his greyed fist closed around her King’s chest. Cailan seized and twitched, his head jerking only to loll to one side while she and Duncan watched on. Contemptuously the ogre tossed Cailan aside and the golden body landed stained with red mere feet from her. 

She had been so close.

Numbly she dropped her blade and reached out a hand with a single step forward. The next blow couldn’t register through everything else although the arch of her back as the blade cut deep into her right hip and sliced up to her left shoulder couldn’t escape her notice. Off balance and feeling foggy, Melisande collapsed a last time to her knees and then fell to her face when she tried to scoot forward another step while kneeling. 

Grey eyes were so focused on her King. One hand fumbled beneath her as the other reached for Cailan again, almost oblivious to the Hurlock Alpha once more standing triumphant above her. He met her gaze and the pain that caused her heart was more intense than anything else that had been done that night. He was still alive, somehow… barely. Not for much longer. His broken chest shook and struggled as he failed to draw breaths through a throat filled with blood that spilled down his chin. With a hard swallow her fingertips managed to contact those of his prone hand where it had fallen and, as if by a miracle, he forced a faint smile. “I’m sorry…” the words were a rasp she doubted he could hear but he gave the smallest shake of his head and with a last fight, managed to grip her fingers weakly. 

When Melisande looked up for Duncan, he was staggering away from the downed ogre in their direction. Returning her gaze to Cailan reassured her only that he was gone for good and finally out of that terrible pain. Duncan gave the Alpha a sharp stab to the kidney as he lifted his sword for a finishing blow, sending the beast squirming to the ground clutching at its back. It was good to know they could feel the same pain. He crouched next to him, the gasps for breath he gave sounding painfully harsh. Blood spilled from several of his own wounds as his eyes took in the reddened armour of the King. Then he looked back over his shoulder at the now unhindered horde. 

Melisande succumbed as Duncan murmured a prayer that she couldn’t put words to just as the mass overcame him.


	8. A Welcome Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a good thing that other people pay better attention than this rusty halfwit warrior.

“Easy now, easy. I think she’s coming around.” A deep growl filtered through a thick haze of fatigue. “Don’t sit up, just try to breathe.” A heavy hand rested against her shoulder although the owner didn’t need much pressure. Esra couldn’t even open her eyes, it seemed, let alone rise.

“Iron Bull, let me see her, darling. She cannot even catch her breath.” The clear command was delivered in a crystalline tone, light pouring through her own eyelids as the massive shadow moved away from Esra’s prone form. A cool hand patted her cheek, “Eyes open, dear. Come on, I need to know if you can breathe on your own. You may have water in your lungs still although you have already coughed a great deal up. I would find it mildly irritating if you drowned after I put so much effort into bringing you back.”

Pain stabbed through Esra’s skull as she tried to peel her eyes open, a grimace flickering briefly across a face made so pale it was nearly grey. Too much light made everything seem white still until a dark hand shielded her gaze from the sun. “There we are, it is good you are awake. Those demons thrashed you quite well. They are gone, as is the rift. Do you have a name?” 

“Name?” The rasp took a moment to come and burned like fire, a fit of harsh coughing following it. “Esra.” She panted the word as she struggled to regain her breath. Exhaustion warred with pain, a dull emptiness sluggishly drained her of any other emotions. Her head was swimming and the images trapped in her mind were still flashing like daggers in her vision. Could they just leave her alone to recover, Andraste’s flaming knickers.

“Esra… that is a rather Orlesian name, or perhaps Antivan? Not a Ferelden or Marcher of a certainty. What are you doing alone so far out in the wilds, hm?” There was something soothingly cool about her tone despite a sharp current that was obviously curbed for the moment. Esra wanted her eyes to focus, wanted to learn more about what was happening and who these people were if they wouldn’t just leave, but everything was still incredibly fuzzy.

“Ma’am, I think perhaps we should get her to a safer location before asking anything else. She’s looking a little worse for wear. Who knows what those bastards did with her head while they had her.” That rumbling man had returned. Corded arms slipped beneath her and the hard ground vanished. Esra felt herself beginning to shiver as heat washed across her from the massive chest she now rested against. “We should head back to the camp at Redcliffe Farms first and see if they have a blanket or cloak then take her right to Haven. The surgeons there can make sure she’s not too bad off. Varric, is that halla still around?” 

“I have him over here with me.” A third voice with a distinctly elven lilt arose from farther away. “I think he prefers elves.” The smirk was audible and had another man laughing nearby, probably Varric since this Iron Bull who was carrying her had called out that name. “Vivienne, are you alright to take the front after that Terror tossed you earlier?”

“My dear, you of all people should know it takes far more than a brief humiliation to slow me down.”

“Of course, Vivienne. Varric, hang back and I’ll stay with you to cover you if we’re attacked from behind. Bull should only have to stop if necessary since he has other priorities. We won’t have much trouble until we start heading back to Haven.” The Dalish elf seemed to be the one giving the commands, which struck her as a bit odd to say the least.

Esra blinked a few times with enough force to crease her face up and was relieved when things began to grow more clear. The man holding her was tall and bulky with an impressive set of horns. Qunari. She doubted anything could have surprised her more although the entire group was motley to say the least. This limber Dalish woman, Varric was obviously a dwarf, a Qunari who now was appropriately named Iron Bull, and Vivienne was clearly an Orlesian mage. The latter must have noticed the confusion because she chuckled and lightly patted Esra’s shoulder as she passed to take the lead, “Just relax, darling. I promise you we are more professional than we appear.”

It was embarrassing how close to safety Esra had been when she had slipped up. Just over the rise the halla had been approaching lay sprawling farms. At the end of the hill was a camp that greeted them with a surprising amount of respect and gave them all the supplies Bull and the elf asked for. Namely water, food, and a thick coat which Bull tugged carefully around her. “You probably should stay awake, that frost spell did some damage. Keep your arms and hands inside this coat and try to rub some feeling back into them.”

Vivienne’s responding scoff was delicately disgusted if such a thing were remotely possible. Maker but Orlesians were to this day confusing as hell. “As if I would be that clumsy. I checked thoroughly for damage when I healed her. Never you mind, let us continue so we may reach Haven before it gets terribly dark.” As Iron Bull seemed to defend his statement the enchantress dismissively gestured with a slender hand before turning to head back toward their leader unperturbed. Iron Bull huffed and shook his head as he lifted her again.

“Alright, we’re only a few hours away from Haven. If we keep hidden and stick to a good pace we should reach the village just after night fall. There’re potentially faster ways, I know, but I’d rather we get there without much fight. At least not when Bull can’t join in the fun.” A grin split her waifish face as she glanced the way of her Qunari companion. “Always try to keep the happiness and wellbeing of my cohorts in mind.”

Well. Esra sighed and simply settled in for the duration of the trip. At least she would have time to shake off the worst of her emotions before they reached the mysterious village. The halla trotted with his burden still on his back at their side. It seemed like she was going to Haven as Lanaya wished no matter what.


	9. A Brief Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The survivor Lavellan accompanied by the Iron Bull, Varric, and Vivienne, successfully return to Haven with the burden of a fully checked out Esra. The healer at Haven gets a good look and someone comes to check in and get some information on who she is before she settles in.

“Hey, come on now, you have to stay awake until you’re inside. You’re still soaked, in shock, and it’s freezing out here.” 

Esra came awake again, the voice accompanied by a strong jostle as Iron Bull hefted her back up against his chest more securely. His good eye watched her carefully, patiently assessing her as she shook her head with a cough. “I’m up.” The sound of her hoarse rasp annoyed her but the headache was dimming finally. 

“Good, stay that way.” Decisively he nodded his head, looking up and away to focus on the elven woman over his shoulder. “Haven is up ahead in sight. I’m a bit surprised we made it back without a fight but whatever works.”

The woman gave an undignified but highly amused snort, taking a few quick steps to catch up to them. “Whatever works. You were bored the entire time, it doesn’t take being Ben-Hassrath to recognise that.” With a smirk, she waved to the militia camped outside of a wooden gate, picking up her pace.

“Tiny, has anyone ever told you that apparently Halla don’t like the way you smell?” Varric laughed behind them, catching up as the Halla gave them a wide birth. He chose a patch of grass by an empty pen and quietly began eating whilst ignoring the odd looks it received. 

Bull shook his head, “Varric, it can be as judgemental as it wants to be. It’s her friend not mine. Shall we get inside before our new friend freezes to death?” 

Stepping within the wooden gates, the yet unnamed elf was already far ahead but they could still hear the respectful greetings of everyone whom she passed. Varric and Iron Bull followed Vivienne towards a large building that housed several low cots when they entered. 

“Another one? Alright… let me see. I’ve got a last cot open over here. A lot of scouts are coming back with injuries.” A harried looking man with an annoyed tone, yanking the heavy blanket off the cot so Bull could lay Esra down and then cover her again. 

“She got ambushed by some demons out of a fade rift. A despair demon and a greater terror. The unholy beast had her pinned in a river half frozen by the despair demon. I healed most of the immediate injuries that were clear but she may have some head trauma and certainly she is at risk for illness.” Vivienne carefully pressed a hand to Esra’s forehead, the soldier staring at them bewildered.  
“She certainly isn’t responding very coherently.” Bull frowned as he tracked the way her eyes flickered between the group. 

“Would you be if a demon reached into your head and wiggled its fingers in your brain?” Varric arched a brow, “I think she’s getting overwhelmed, just let her warm up and relax.” He nudged Iron Bull and turned to leave. 

“You’ve been through hell, I can tell. You look like you’ve been mauled a few times.” The stern man bent to tuck the blanket in tighter with a cursory examination of her head while Vivienne and Iron Bull followed Varric’s lead. “You should get some rest for an hour or so, then I’ll make sure to wake you so that someone can get your basic information. Name, where you’re from, make sure you’re okay.”

Esra nodded mildly, still feeling entirely disconnected. She felt like she was a thousand miles away although the last logical voice that remained told her it was clearly shock. As soon as it passed she would be a mess like normal. Of course, demons of terror and despair would go for that, dredge it up and make her relive it for their own sick desires. A cringe crawled its way down her spine and she nearly threw up but swallowed it back bitterly. With effort, she closed her eyes, wondering if sleep would even be possible or if it would just be more nightmares now that all the wounds were freshly opened.

“Commander, I didn’t expect… It doesn’t matter. You’re here about the woman that elf brought in earlier?” Keeping her eyes closed, Esra barely shifted. That was the voice of her healer.

A calmer voice responded, also male with a tone that was almost soothing. “Ah… yes. I know someone else could have come but I wasn’t busy. How is her prognosis?”

“If she could survive whatever meat grinder she was put through before, this is hardly going to keep her down a day. The Enchantress from Orlais patched her up nicely before they dropped her off, I just made sure she didn’t take ill.” The shrug was audible in his reply, almost apathetic enough to make her lips twitch in a smile.

The delay left the room in hesitant silence until, “Meat… grinder?”

“Aye.” The unnamed healer sounded even more grim than normal. “She’s been torn to shreds before, Commander. Scars all over her head, torso. Old breaks in her arms. Bad scar on her leg. Uneasy sleeper. She’s got a lot of history, probably a soldier or mercenary, and it didn’t end well. Why they found her unarmed and without armour in the middle of a war zone I have no clue. Those will be questions you can ask her.”

A low sigh breathed through the room and Esra could almost feel the eyes on her. “Right. Thank you for your efforts, I won’t hold you up any longer.” 

The end of the bed sank slightly, “I know you’re awake. If you aren’t sleeping well then, any sound we made would’ve woken you as well. I’m Commander Cullen of the Inquisition, you can just call me Cullen for now. I’ve heard you’re called Esra?”

A low huff left her lungs as she frowned and opened her eyes, taking in the armoured blonde sitting by her feet. “Esra, yes.”

The scar across the corner of his mouth pulled slightly as he gave a sheepish half smile. “You’ve been through a lot. I won’t take much of your time, are you from here in Ferelden or traveling? We could use some help if you’re willing to stay with the Inquisition.”

“I’m Ferelden. I don’t fight but Keeper Lanaya asked me to come and help how I can. I was trying to find my way here in the first place. Your people were in the right place at the right time, I must say.” Esra closed her eyes as she laid back again, rubbing a hand against her chest with a grimace. 

“The Dalish Keeper in the Brecilian Forest? Near Denerim? You came quite a way through chaotic territory. I’m glad you arrived mostly unharmed.” He nodded with a release of tension that had creased his brow. “We can talk more about what you can do to help here later, after you’ve fully rested. I’m sorry there isn’t anywhere much quieter to sleep but do try. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” He started to rise and then held out a hand which she shook, “I can understand not wanting to fight, there’s plenty else to do. Thank you for your help, regardless, Esra.”


	10. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FInally Adan needs Esra to leave the makeshift clinic. She gets a little better acquainted with her rescuers and learns more of what happened while she was sequestered in the Brecilian Forest. Cullen and Cassandra are more than happy to leave Esra to her work although it seems like Varric is already getting other ideas. 
> 
> *I do apologise I realised while writing this chapter that I accidentally used the Inquisitor's title in chapters far too early in the storyline. I went back and fixed it but it didn't change any of the plot. I just edited how she was being referred to.

Adan was the name of the man running the clinic, Esra had learned eventually. He made no secret of being uncomfortable in the role but he did his work with pride and a certain perfectionism that amused her every time he began griping. After about four days he had insisted she find another place since she was no longer in need of help, giving her a heavy woollen coat despite his gruff dismissal. Esra decided she liked the man.

Stepping out of the building in full awareness for the first time since she had been carried in was a shock to the system. It brought up so many sharp memories and for a few minutes she simply stood before the closed door and surveyed the bustling scene. Just ahead around a curved rise she could see Varric standing close to a fire between some tents but she saw no one else she recognised immediately. On the rise to her left were several more tents and a flurry of action around a woman who bent over a table, past that rose a large stone building out of the snow. Likely the Chantry if she were to assume based upon the flock of robed sisters outside its doors. To the right were a few more buildings and supplies scattered in haphazard organisation, a set of stairs leading down farther into a chilly landscape. Glancing up provided a view of the Frostback Mountains they were obviously cradled within. The Hinterlands weren’t going to get snow like this unless a fluke of nature happened.

The sky swirled ominously above the Frostbacks, a nearly hypnotic green maelstrom so large that it made her mind protest its reality marred the blue and washed everything she could see in a faint matching tinge. Esra swallowed hard, her shoulders shifting with a twitch running down her spine. Shaking her head, she turned away and avoided looking up at the sky again, finally moving toward Varric.

Esra folded her arms to keep the coat closed a bit better, clearing her throat slightly as she approached. The Dwarf seemed surprised but gave her a half-cocked grin, “Well, rise and shine. Esra right? How are you feeling?” 

The open, even friendly, manner set her more at ease instantly, “Ah well, you know… a little bit like I’ve been flattened by demons recently. I got better though.”

That succeeded in getting him to laugh apparently, he reached out a hand to shake hers. “You’ll fit in well with me and Lavellan at least, if you haven’t met Cassandra yet just do you. She scowls at everyone, it’s just her face. Varric Tethras, it’s a pleasure.”

The grin was apparently as infectious as his relaxed nature, Esra could feel herself catching it as she shook the offered hand. “Good to know. Thanks, I remember a bit of what happened after you lot arrived. So, this is Haven? I haven’t heard much…” 

Varric’s surprise returned full force as he leaned back and folded his arms as well, “No need, it seems to be what we do best. How far behind are you on the local gossip, then? Let’s walk, I’ll get you caught up. Half of it might not even be exaggerated, it’s a bit hard to inflate what’s been happening lately.”

With a brief nod Esra followed him down the stairs and past a frustrated sister who was arguing with a greasy looking merchant. “I heard a bit about the war between the mages and Templars, then more recently about the tears in the sky. I was sort of avoiding it all, I didn’t want to know. I guess that sounds bad.”

Immediately he shook his head, scoffing faintly, “None of us wanted to admit this was happening, trust me. You’re here now and that’s what counts.” He frowned as he walked past the militia training outside of their tents, Esra on his heels. She could see Cullen standing there signing more documents as he looked on. “Long story short, Divine Justinia called the mages and Templars together for peace talks. Some unknown force blew the shit out of the entire mountaintop and ripped the sky open. As far as we know only Lavellan survived, the elf lady who was with us when we picked you up. The Templars and mages both fell back and forted up but they left all their degenerates behind to terrorise the countryside. Lavellan has this strange mark on her hand that allows her to control rifts, as we’ve taken to calling them, so we got the Templars back under our control and used them to weaken the oldest rift so we could close it. It’s given us a measure of calm while we try to figure out how to close that monstrosity. We started the Inquisition because the Chantry is in shock and, hell, the Templars and mages won’t listen to them anyway.” He gestured up at the sky, glancing over to see how she was taking the deluge of information.

Esra was feeling a bit numb again but it was a safely familiar feeling this time. The detached way she looked at a battle map or took in orders, her mind racing ahead to figure out the best way to prepare for the coming situations. Her jaw had set unconsciously, a faint annoyance in her eyes as she watched the way the sky flickered across the iced over lake they now stood on the edge of. “So, this Lavellan and Cullen are giving orders because there’s no one else left? This attack cut off the heads of the Templars, mages, and the Chantry? I almost have to feel a bit impressed. Also, terrified.”

A faint chuckle reached her ears although she didn’t return his gaze, fixated on the vista of Haven. “We’d be idiots to not be terrified. We still have Seeker Cassandra and Sister Leliana too, they were the Right and Left Hands of the Divine, respectively. They’re giving the orders along with Cullen and Ambassador Josephine. She came from Antiva to help the Inquisition get its baby feet going. Lavellan has been asked to give her advice too since we can’t actually stop any of the rifts without her help. She’s a decent sort, taking it all in stride. Rather like you, come to think of it.” 

It was Esra’s turn to shake her head, finally looking back with a raised eyebrow, “Let’s not go comparing me to the woman with a magical mark who can close the sky and stop demons in their tracks. I have a history of losing fights or I wouldn’t look like this. I already met Cullen and told him I’m happy to work on whatever they need help with here at Haven.”

Varric gave her that half smirk again as he tossed a thumb back over his shoulder, turning to head back to the gates, “Nails, say what you want but all the best people I’ve ever met were dragged into the fight kicking and screaming. We’ll have to wait and see but I’ve seen your type, you won’t be able to stay out of it long. Iron Bull is over this way, he was the wall of Qunari carrying you back from the Hinterlands. Vivienne is off with Lavellan again but she’s usually inside the Chantry.” He hesitated and then shrugged, “Don’t take it hard if you two don’t hit it off like we did. She’s an acquired taste but impressive. Tiny!” He waved as they approached the tall Qunari and the well armoured soldier next to him. 

“Good to see you up, don’t let Varric talk your head off. He will.” Bull nodded at them, his single eye somehow making her feel like hiding behind a tree as he extended a hand. Did he have to make her feel like he was looking straight through her?

“Thanks for the assist and the advice. Nails, Varric? That was out of left field.” Confusion crossed her face as she shook Bull’s hand now. The Qunari laughed at her reaction.

“Varric doesn’t call anyone by their real name. He calls me Tiny, Cullen is Curly, Vivienne is the Iron Lady, like that. Apparently, you’ve earned a nickname too.”

“Yes, Nails. Tough as nails. You’ve got guts of steel; your heart and spine are probably made out of the stuff too.” Varric grinned and waved her protests aside, “I’m a storyteller, Nails. I can read anyone almost as well as Tiny here can. You strike me as the type that can take some abuse and never give up. Don’t lose that stubbornness. Shall we see about figuring out where you’re sleeping tonight? Cassandra should have the answers, she’s right over there beating up defenceless people and wooden dummies.”

Iron Bull gave her a nod as Varric walked away, “We can talk more later if you want, he’s right. You need to know where to stay and what your job will be. I’m always here unless I’m helping the boss kick some asses.”

Esra saw a stern woman in armour being given a wide berth by the training dummies was their destination almost before she noticed the tightening in Varric’s shoulders. Obviously, there was some tension between these two. 

“Varric? What is it now?” Despite the snap in her tone, Cassandra had a unique accent that Esra hadn’t come across before. It was a soothing sound to the ear even as the woman glared and caught her breath, stepping over to another dummy since there wasn’t much left of her current victim. 

“Always a pleasure, Seeker. One of the refugees woke up and needs somewhere to stay. Figured you could point her in the right direction, I’ll just let you get acquainted. It’s too damn cold out here.” He gave a mocking bow and then left to head back to the gate, Cassandra scowling at his back before sighing and wiping a hand over her brow.

“My apologies. It is hardly an excuse but it has been very stressful lately. I am Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast of Navarra.” She sheathed her weapon and extended a hand. The shake she gave was decidedly as firm as the rest of her personality seemed to be.

“Esra. Of Ferelden but my parents were Orlesian. I figured I could come and volunteer as labour. Building and maintenance things, I’m sure you need all the hands you can get.” She could see why Cassandra and Varric got on each other’s nerves but Esra found she rather liked the flustered warrior. 

“We are indeed short on just about everything. Just Esra?” Cassandra gestured for her to follow as she paced down the rows of tents towards an extension of the encampment.  
The hesitation was long enough to be obvious before she sighed faintly. “Melisande Esra. Isn’t a name I use often anymore.” 

“I will not ask. I know all about embarrassing stories in your past that you would rather leave there. I have a few of my own that haunt me to this day, I hardly recognise myself in them they have become so exaggerated. Ah, here, this tent will work.” Gingerly she peeled back the flap to make sure it wasn’t already claimed before nodding in satisfaction. “All we ask is your best and your loyalty, Esra. Tomorrow morning if you report to Threnn over by the Chantry she can tell you whom to speak to about work.”

Relief was starting to sink in as things began fitting together at last. She smiled faintly to Cassandra, “That I am sure I can give. Thank you, Seeker.”


	11. Change Is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Esra is getting settled in, the Inquisition is blessed by its first major victory... swiftly followed by its first devastating loss. The Herald of Andraste is nearly lost and the Inquisition feels it may be just as lost. Esra loses all she had left of before and struggles to keep up with the Herald's forward momentum as she tries to figure out what that means to herself. Varric's funny nickname starts to click with her a bit more as she begins to see things from his point of view.
> 
> *Deepest apologies this is a bit late. Got it up as soon as I could get to my computer.

Moving into her tent proved far less of a hassle than finding her wayward halla. Eventually the elegant beast had turned up near the forges where a makeshift pen had been set up for a magnificent Forder. “I’m not sure how you managed to avoid someone taking these bags off you but I appreciate it. Sorry I kept you waiting.” With a grimace, Esra hefted both bags from the halla’s back and almost immediately dropped the one with her armour in it. Her foot narrowly avoided being crushed. 

The halla turned and began to pace quietly away through the snow, “Leaving so soon? Well, thank you for the help. Make sure Keeper Lanaya stays safe.” It paused, bending its head slightly over its shoulder with calmly rational eyes. It nodded before looking back at the snowy wilderness and walking away out of sight. 

Excitement buzzed through every person as she hauled her burden past them towards her new home. Cassandra was gone now, as were Leliana and Cullen. They had all left to meet up with Lavellan, Vivienne, and someone named Solas, up at the ruined temple with the last of the Templars. The camp seemed extraordinarily empty, Esra hadn’t recognised how many of them had been members of that fallen order.

Finally, everything was packed away although she left her armour in its bag where it belonged. Faint rumblings had been coming from the mountainside occasionally and it was enough to make some glance at the sky anxiously but most waited with bated silence in the tavern or around Varric’s fire while he told tall tales. 

Just as the sun was gaining its momentum towards sunset, a concussive blast trembled through the ground and was heard soon after. Shocked faces turned toward the mountain with barely restrained hope as sickly light exploded across the sky and made most of them instinctively cover themselves.

It came again but stronger and Esra reached out to catch the woman next to her as she stumbled and nearly fell but then… the sky cleared. For a few moments, there was silence as everyone tried to comprehend the dark blue vastness with grey clouds that were twisted but still. “Is it over?” The voice came from behind Esra, soft as though if he spoke too loudly the sky would tear once more.

“It is over for now.” Mother Giselle had left the Chantry and stood near Threnn’s table above Varric’s fireplace. Her gentle smile encouraged the relieved cheers that were starting in the waking crowd. 

Esra returned her smile with a patient one as their eyes met over the crowd but rather than joining the festivities, leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs. It was entertaining enough watching everyone dancing and drinking while the light was fading and night rose. This night, finally, shone with brilliant white moonlight instead of the eerie, pulsing green of the Fade.

Yells and excited cheers raucously echoed from the gate as shining Templars led by a grinning group entered triumphantly. Lavellan walked side by side with Cassandra, Vivienne and an elven mage who must be Solas chatting off to their right and a bit behind them. Cullen strode with Leliana and a Templar ahead of the main body as they returned. 

The Breach had been sealed and tonight they were all happy to take it as a solid win.

“And that’s when Hawke-“ Varric cut off in the middle of his story, glancing around in concern as the sounds of the party, which was still going hours later, changed tune to utter panic. Cassandra and Lavellan came rushing past as the crowds pushed towards the chantry and Templars helped those who fell while directing terrified villagers.

Esra’s eyes met Varric’s. For an instant, she knew she was running into battle once again, her pulse kicking up its pace and a steadiness entering her muscles. However, an instant is all it would be. She placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll help everyone get inside. Be safe Varric.” Her mouth was starkly dry and her head was pounding forcefully as she refused to consider what was rising to the surface of her memories. 

Feeling Varric’s eyes on her, she refused to look back and threw herself into the moment. Strong hands latched onto the arm of a fallen man and she heaved him up. As she helped the Templars herd everyone towards the Chantry doors, a cry rang out for everyone to get in the gates before they were closed. 

Icy pain spread through her chest and into her limbs as she turned on her heel and ran back towards the stairs. Her tent. She didn’t need the damn thing, it was useless, it shouldn’t have bothered her but as the gates closed before her eyes and flashes of bright light rocked the sky and walls, Esra slid to her knees in the bitter snow. 

Things, maybe people, were climbing over the walls but Esra was… somewhere else. Hands gripped her shoulders, a female Templar with blood trailing down her temple was saying something but… Esra’s eyes slid back to the gate past her arm. Heavy pounding started to register in her ears as the woman heaved her to her feet and began to force her along, half carrying her, toward the Chantry.

Within sight of the doors, they could see Varric and Lavellan ushering Threnn into the doorway. She and the Templar collapsed as a heavy weight came down on them. Varric was already hefting Bianca to his shoulder and firing with a stern grimace while the Templar threw out a hand and the damnable spell slinging halted just long enough for her to rise. Reaching down to grab Esra, the woman was already rising instead as she tried to shake off her stupor. Varric was waving to her, beckoning her to hurry.

Esra stumbled up and lunged forward the next few feet, slipping while the Templar pulled her blade and swung in a wide arc behind them. Seconds later the Chantry doors slammed shut behind them and Varric had a hand on her bent back as she braced her hands on her knees and panted for breath. Fucking froze. She couldn’t freeze like that. She could’ve gotten someone killed getting her out. She could not freeze again.

As she slowly regained her senses, Lavellan was sternly speaking to Cullen in low tones nearby. Templars and a well-dressed mage were helping a chantry brother she’d often seen but never spoken to walk towards the rear of the church. “We’re evacuating through tunnels under the Chantry, Nails. Have to keep moving. Not out of the fire yet. Come on, Nails.” The voice made her blink and then nod firmly, though the motion made her cough. Straightening, she glanced to Varric, “I’m going to help Lavellan divert that monster’s attention. You hold it together, Nails. That’s what you’re good at. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Conflicting emotions flashed across her pale face as she watched Iron Bull, Varric, and a man named Blackwall, who seemed to be the last Grey Warden in Thedas, walk out with Lavellan and their heads high. Cullen touched her shoulder but he was staring in the same direction with a torn look to match before he sighed. “We have to get moving. The faster we get clear, the more time they’ll have to get out of the way before the avalanche or that wretched beast take out the town.”

A hush was falling across everyone as tumultuous roars and cracks echoed off the mountains as they exited the tunnel system into a frozen wasteland. You didn’t have to look back to see the lights, the snow reflected every flash and fire brightly. None of it gave the heart much hope and Esra could see everyone she walked past wilting with every step. 

Esra struggled through snow up to her knees, focusing on that instead of the fact that she felt utterly empty and destroyed. She hadn’t made it in time. It felt like a final betrayal. His final gift, she had lost that just as she had lost him. So close but every effort hadn’t been enough. No, that was a sticky mire she would not get stuck in right now. Nails held things together… and provided support. Looking around quickly, she found the closest person who was slowing down too much and hefted their arm over her shoulder. With a steadying glance, the injured man nodded to her and they toiled along together. 

Eventually, they stopped and a rather quirky elf named Sera fired an arrow wreathed in flame as high as she could. She was swearing her head off in the most creative and colourful language the entire time but no one seemed to have the energy left to smile or frown at her antics. Every face she saw was as blank as hers likely was, though a few people flinched as the rumbling of another avalanche began to grow. With a great roar, the dragon which had been rather uncomfortably labelled an archdemon by Cullen and Lavellan back at the Chantry, flew off in a different direction and quickly vanished from sight. The sigh of relief that it had not flown over them was collective and palpable… but not nearly as much as the one that came hours later when word spread that the Herald of Andraste, the elf Lavellan, had survived the encounter. Varric, Blackwall, and Iron Bull had found their way back almost two hours earlier, it was with them that Esra silently sat as the woman was carried in by Cullen with Cassandra at his elbow. 

Mother Giselle tended her personally as Chancellor Roderick was mourned and the heads of the Inquisition bickered. Varric had gotten annoyed with them finally and wandered off with Bull while Blackwall laid down where he was to try and sleep, covering his face with his helmet. The woman lifted her head as the irritated and severely injured Lavellan appeared at her tent, but before she could say her piece the Mother began a quiet but powerful hymn. 

Dark eyes watched as everyone slowly gathered to sing, many holding onto each other for dear life and some kneeling before the now wild-eyed Lavellan whom they had seen rise from the apparent grave not once but twice. Esra almost smiled at the overwhelmed expression on the poor elf’s face but as the song ended, Solas drew her away for some likely much needed quiet contemplation of all she had been through. He seemed like the advisory type at least. 

Sleep had come entirely unattended but thankfully she had been so exhausted that it had been dreamless. Varric’s coat covered her as she sat up from where she had simply fallen off the barrel she sat upon, one hand rubbing at her eyes with a fought back yawn. Morning was dawning and the Inquisition was rising to its feet, whole still though homeless.

The Inquisition was going to Skyhold, its Herald at the head of its masses.


	12. Entering Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the exhausted, rag tag army has reached the suddenly very real safety of Skyhold's walls. It's a time of relief and a returning hope for everyone, more than ever when Lavellan steps up as Inquisitor to lead the Inquisition into a war no one could foresee. However, in all the commotion, Esra is realising that she's really back in the world she had avoided for a decade and there are some underlying triggers that will need to be dealt with. Things that perhaps a few people will refuse to let her deal with on her own unless she can successfully avoid a rogue storyteller and a Ben Hassrath spy... which is probably even harder than it sounds. 
> 
> *Thank you so much for your patience. Working on the bonus chapter now.
> 
> **I'm almost done with this one but I'm really sorry, I'm pretty sick and need to sleep. I promise I will finish and post it as soon as I can in the morning after my doctor's appointment.

Word had filtered down the long column of Skyhold’s name and its apparently awe-inspiring appearance. The reality of it from a distance as they all began cresting a mountain pass was far beyond what anyone had hoped to imagine. Even with miles still to go, the size of the fortress took away what breath the cold had left in the refugees who had followed the Herald of Andraste. 

As Esra looked around in the still blinding light of early sun on snow, she began to see smiles of shocked relief and hesitant hope spreading on a few of the less exhausted faces around her. The release of tension was physical the closer they got and as they entered the security of the walls, not even the disrepair could dampen the new but slightly uncertain feeling of safety. Even Esra couldn’t help a faint smile as she stood by the portcullis and helped people through into the courtyard. Little could break these walls and the ground itself seemed to have an awareness that stood proud and protective, they would be ready this time.

Walking with an injured woman whose leg simply would not bear weight anymore into the wide courtyard, it was easy to tell who had training. The confidence returned to each face as they examined their surroundings and realised just what an amazing find Skyhold would be for them with a little care. The rest of the crowd nearly glowed with simple relief and awe, something just as powerful. 

The Herald and a small crowd including Cullen were heading into the main castle while everyone else got settled. Within the hour, the injured had been settled in and tents put up over as many as they could. A younger man stood with Adan directing survivors to clearing the courtyard of an age’s worth of debris and opening the less debilitated buildings outside of the main castle. 

Esra found her way over to a large group of people trying to remove heavy stones that had fallen from the wall in front of an aged wooden door. One picked up a large plank and wedged it under a rock on top but she hurried faster and held up a hand, “Wait! You’ll hurt your back or shoulder throwing all your weight around like that. Do it like this.” Shifting the plank to a lower boulder she grabbed it with both hands and sat back, using her weight but pushing with her knees. The counterweight of her body pushed it forward and allowed more boulders to roll so they were mostly laying on the ground instead of stacked against the wall. “Now get hammers and we’ll break these up. It’ll be worlds easier. Why lift massive rocks unless we have to?” Another old man grinned from over the younger heads as they nodded in agreement. Minutes later they had ransacked or fashioned hammers of one sort or another, quickly setting up a pace to remove the blockage. 

A cheer rose later as a dozen volunteers drenched in sweat and perhaps a bit of blood and tears stood back to let one of their number wrench the door open. The stone would have to be piled on a cart and sent wherever it was meant to go but they had completed their task. “It looks… maybe like a workshop? It reminds me a bit of the forge at my family farm.” The boy spoke up as he left the door open for the stale air to leave and re-joined the group. 

Distracted, Esra was watching the other groups sifting through rubble near them. Not all of them had older heads leading their progress and it made her nervous. Her feet were moving before she was even aware, her body recognising the disaster before her mind caught up. With a muttered curse she picked up speed, catching sight of exactly what had gotten her guard up. A small group of younger boys were at the base of the wall, clearing from the bottom up to try and gain access to the battlements. Gasping for breath, she saw the tremble and put in a last effort to reach them as the slide started. Both hands thrown out, she forced one kid out of the way with her hip and used her weight to slow the heaviest rock. Glancing up, she had not been the only one either. “Well, I did say we could talk again later.” Iron Bull grinned slightly, Krem next to him as they both stopped other rocks. Another of the Chargers, a dwarf, was rolling his eyes as he pulled the kids out of the way. Krem backed up and Bull shifted his weight to help Esra hold up what she had caught. “Ready? As soon as you’re out of the way we’ll just let it roll.” 

Wincing, Esra nodded, already feeling a shake in her arms and shoulders from the impact and strain. Taking a breath, she reached out and Krem grabbed her by the arm to help her get clear faster. Bull was right behind her as they all got clear of it. A coughed forced its way out of her lungs as a heavy hand gave her a pat on the back. There were going to be bruises later. “Nice timing, Iron Bull. I guess we’ll need some more supervision on the groups dealing with bigger projects.” Dust began to settle, the shocked faces around them starting to return to their work. 

“Luck. We’re heading towards the main stairs, some sort of announcement. Come on, you need a break.” Bull nodded his horned head towards the large crowd starting to gather, directed by Cullen and the lovely Antivan lady she had heard was called Josephine. The Chargers were halfway there already, leaving Krem and Bull to catch up. 

Krem started off to join them but Bull waited for a moment and Esra couldn’t shake the feeling that his look was almost a dare. With a faint frown, she shrugged, “I’m not doing anything else right now.” Joining the throng, she pointedly ignored the grin Iron Bull tossed her way. Whatever test he had been putting her through, she wasn’t interested in finding out more right now. It was bad enough Varric was analysing everything she did for hero material. 

“…the one who has already been leading it.”

Esra stopped and glanced up as everyone grew still, watching the platform halfway up the stairs to the Main Hall. Leliana stood with a sword balanced on her hands, Cassandra and a once again obviously rattled Lavellan before her. Hells she couldn’t blame Lavellan for looking a bit overwhelmed. Every time she turned around she had accidentally fallen into situations where she had needed to step up but no one could possibly want this to be their purpose and life.

“You.”

“You’re offering this to an elf? Are you quite sure you know what you’re doing?” Lavellan had turned to Cassandra and her words were only audible because of the complete hush that had fallen over Skyhold.

“I would feel terrified handing this power to anyone, but I believe it is the only way.” Cassandra’s determination was as obvious as ever, but an uncommon uncertainty was in her eyes. “They’ll follow you. To them, being an elf shows how far you’ve risen, how it must have been by Andraste’s hand. What it means for you, how you lead us: that is for you alone to determine.” Lavellan and Leliana approached each other as Cassandra spoke, standing face to face now. Lavellan still hadn’t recovered all her composure, it seemed, until she lifted the sword before her face and raw resolve and will strengthened her features. 

“This isn’t about a greater message.” Lavellan’s eyes were locked on the blade, her voice quiet but strong. “We have an enemy and we have to stand together. We’ll do what is right. The Inquisition will fight for all of us.” Finally, she began to turn towards the crowd as it dawned on Cassandra that she had accepted the position.

“Wherever you lead us.” All three women now faced the suddenly excited crowd, Commander Cullen stepping forward to look up from below. “Have our people been told?”  
“They have.” Josephine’s smile was brilliant and she glowed with obvious pride as she joined Cullen, “And soon the world.”

“Commander, will they follow?” Esra was staring up at the warriors gathered on the stairs, but nothing seemed to be functioning. Just as at Haven, her limbs were numb and cold, a strange ringing in her ears as her heart seemed to beat out of control. Why, she had no clue, except that she was once again right back at Ostagar. Around her the world was in slow motion but filled with nervous excitement while Cullen responded. 

“Inquisition! Will you follow?” The shouts erupted and if she had been able to catch her breath she might have flinched. Varric caught her eye from the far left and arched a brow but she gave no response, a statue amidst the restless militia. 

“Will you fight?” His hand raised and everything grew louder as the rush took the crowd and hope returned in a flurry. “Will we triumph?”

Cullen turned and raised his sword high, “Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!”

The noise was unbelievable as the now Inquisitor Lavellan lifted her sword in return, the infectious power running through everyone and bringing looks, even smiles, of renewed confidence. Esra woodenly turned and quietly walked away from the crowd without another glance. Her head throbbed mercilessly, her distraction causing her to utterly miss the concerned faces of Cullen and Josephine as they noticed her odd departure. 

“Nails.”

Esra’s hammer hesitated where she stood nearly alone in the dim light. After the Inquisitor’s speech, she had kept busy and everyone else had returned to their work. When others had ventured off in satisfied exhaustion to celebrate around campfires in the lower courtyard, she had kept working on rubble instead. Moving from pile to pile had kept her relatively undisturbed but, of course, she couldn’t hide from Varric forever.

“You’re not the only one with a story you can’t tell, Nails. It’s ok, I know when not to ask. They got the tavern mostly functional, though it isn’t pretty yet. Come on. Keep your story, but you don’t need to hide yourself away too. Having a friend or two won’t kill you.” Varric finally stepped up and actually put a hand on the hammer’s haft to prevent it from moving again, a strangely stern look on his face. “I need a drink too. It might be the last one I get once the Seeker figures out who I invited to our party. What do you, say?” He smiled slightly, arching a brow. “Contest; you, me, and Tiny.”  


“I don’t need saving, Varric.”

“Not all demons are physical, Nails. The only people who say that in response to a drinking invitation are the people who do need it.” He scoffed at her with such disbelief that she smirked, which he took as a win. “I didn’t name you Nails to make you act even more prickly, come on.”

Esra sighed and stood up with a wince as her back protested, one hand rubbing along her lower spine. “Alright. Alright, fine. A few drinks. We are not braiding each other’s hair and gossiping about Lavellan’s love life though.” 

Varric grinned and clapped his hands together, “Of course not. I don’t think she even has one anyway… yet. Curly’s been giving her Inquisitorialness some interesting glances though.”

“You really know how to break rules the instant you hear them don’t you?”


	13. Cards and Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is drinking. There is cards. Add in Varric and Iron Bull with his Chargers and it might be more of a party than perhaps a dilapidated tavern can handle. Despite the companionable atmosphere, Esra is beginning to wonder if she should worry more about these two than the masses outside of the walls. They'll just try to kill her but she isn't sure what to expect from Varric and Bull at all except that they see way too much for comfort. And what the hell is Commander Cullen up to?

“I’m not sure what you expect to find in here, Varric. This place hasn’t been opened in practically a century or more.” The door creaked and dust fell from the walkway on the second floor as the wind stirred. “Anything in here is toxic. Either because it aged terribly or way too well.” 

“That’s why the Chargers always come prepared.” Krem’s voice broke the darkness as Dalish and Rocky began placing candles and lanterns around the first-floor walls. “Casks and axes!” He laughed as he helped Grim place casks, pointing out Chargers and naming them for Esra’s benefit, and Iron Bull followed Esra and Varric in through the front door. 

“This place hasn’t had some new stories in a long time, eh Varric? Shall we give it a few?” Bull grinned widely as he stretched, his horns almost knocking the second floor before he relaxed and journeyed farther in. With the casks open now, Krem and Grim helped him flip tables over into the right position and drag chairs over. 

“You think you already know me so well, Tiny.” Varric winked at the Qunari giant and motioned for Esra to help him set up a small table in front of the empty fireplace. Bull pulled over a third chair as they got their own; Varric busied himself starting a fire in the ornate stone pit. 

“You can sit down, Esra, I don’t know you well enough for you to worry about me biting.” Bull chuckled as he made himself comfortable and folded his hands behind his head. Varric joined them and took the seat closest to the fire, putting Bull on his left closer to the door. The Chargers were easily heard but not as readily seen, scattered across the second floor and the other side of the wall that housed the chimney stack. 

For a moment Esra just took in the sight of them both sitting there waiting to see if she’d meet their challenge and level with them. She turned and walked away instead, coming back a few moments later with three large tankards. If Varric was relieved she hadn’t left, he managed not to show it but Esra knew well enough by now that, aside from Leliana and Josephine, these two were the hardest to read in the entire Inquisition. She was playing with experts tonight. Quietly she sat down across from Varric and pushed a drink to each of them. “So… were you serious about a competition?”

Silence descended for a moment and then Iron Bull just laughed. It was right from the gut, full of mirth and a touch of arrogance. “Really, Varric? Drinking competition? With me?” 

Varric grinned and shrugged faintly, “It was more of an idea to throw out. We could do… more of a game instead if you want. Get to know each other a bit. We’ll all be working together and it’s good to build a rapport.”

“I won’t be fighting.” Esra arched a brow at him as she took the first drink from her mug, her point ruined as she almost dropped the heavy cup with a racking cough. Bull laughed again as he leaned over to pat her back a few times, tears prickling at her eyes.

“I’m sure we would all still be more at ease knowing a few of the people in charge of putting roofs over our heads and walls between us and the enemy. Just take a breath, you’ll get used to it.” The big man was grinning still in pleasure as he sat back again, letting her regain her composure.

“Point made.” A single tear slipped down her cheek as she blinked hard, her voice rasping even more than usual. “Fine, I’ll give it a shot, although I don’t know how much I’ll drink. This stuff is about as harsh as anything I would have found tucked away in here after we opened it.” 

Varric smirked and pulled a deck of cards from his coat, “Ever played Wicked Grace, Nails?” Already he was beginning to shuffle as Esra sat back in her chair finally.

“Was I born in Thedas, Varric? I may have been living under a rock for an inordinate amount of time, but I had a life before then.” He laughed at her nearly caustic sarcasm, though he quite obviously didn’t take offense as he shuffled a few more times.

Varric opened his mouth to respond but the door opened and distracted the small group, “Ah… I saw the lights. Mind if I join you for an hour or two?” Esra instantly recognized the smooth as honey voice as that of Commander Cullen even without turning around to look toward the door.

“Sure, Curly. Grab a chair and prepare to lose all of your coin.” Varric smiled in welcome as he gestured to the open space at Esra’s right.

“You do realise I have absolutely no coin to lose, right? I came to the Inquisition with a sack of food and a sack of clothes. They’d have to be tailored but I’m sure they’d look lovely on you, Varric.” Esra arched an eyebrow as she carefully took another drink, eyeing the way Iron Bull seemed to be able to just knock this burning pitch of a drink back. 

Varric, to her great dismay, had an instant comeback for her remark. “Alright, well we are doing this to get to know each other after all.” He met her look eye to eye as he smiled, the taunt as clear as the sky now was, “Lets bet facts about ourselves. Each time someone loses they owe a factual statement about who they are that no one already knows.”

Cullen winced slightly as he settled down in his chair to Esra’s right, looking at the five cards Varric had dealt him without picking them up like they might be venomous. “Suddenly I’m not so sure about this.”

“Join the club.” Esra grumbled the words as she lifted her hand and wrinkled her nose. “Cullen is the only pretty one here, I say he goes first. Lamb to the slaughter sort of.”

The Commander glanced up and stared at her in shock even as Varric and Bull broke down laughing. Varric wiped a tear from his face, clearing his throat and taking a deep drink. One of the Chargers stepped past and gave Bull a new drink and Cullen his first. “I agree, Curly go first. Pick up, play, and discard.” The deck dropped facedown onto the table with a note of finality. 

Looking a bit ill, he went ahead and lifted a card and the game began. 

For a while they became quiet, although Varric and Bull bantered back and forth. They were the only two confident that they would win. Cullen and Esra focused on their cards and watching their opponents. 

“Hey, Nails. Everyone has finished at least one drink but you.”

Glancing up from the half empty deck of cards to Varric’s expectant expression, she looked him right in the eye the way he had earlier and put her hand down. With a tilt of her head she picked up the mug and in three tries managed to drink the entire thing, wiping the tears that had watered up as she set it back down on the table. Nodding to him, she picked up her cards and ignored his grin when she wobbled. Taking the top card, finally it was her turn to give a shark of a grin. “I hope you all like your hands. Angel of Death.”

With a twist of her wrist she showed the card which ended the round, dropping it onto the table. Bull flipped his cards over confidently, “Four serpents. Beat that.”

Cullen nearly swore but sighed and turned his in, “Two songs, two knights.”

Varric nodded to Cullen, “Hey, don’t look so glum, that is a better hand than the last time you played with us. I’ve got three songs. Nails?”

Glancing down at her cards Esra smiled faintly and placed them gently on the table in full view. “Four angels and a serpent.”

Varric blinked and then actually swore, standing up to look over her cards. “Well done, Nails. Damn. I wonder what that combination says, though.” Esra’s smile vanished as she narrowed her eyes on Varric and frowned grimly. The wretched storyteller seemed to get something from everything and she wasn’t even certain what he thought he knew. Cards were random, right? 

Bull chuckled, “Cut it out before she tosses her second mug at your head. One more round of drinks! Varric and Cullen, start talking.” 

This time Krem came by to deliver drinks, tugging a chair over with his own drink and ruddy cheeks, straddling it backwards with his arms folded on the back of the chair. “Oh, I’ve got to hear this.”

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to think, “Well. Um, by the Maker this is embarrassing. I may have had a bit of an… infatuation… with a mage a long time ago.” When Varric’s eyebrows climbed, the reddening Templar veteran rushed to add an addendum, “It never went anywhere of course. I held far too much respect for my profession and for the mage in question.”

The grin on Varric’s face was almost wicked, “You know I’m going to dig into that, Curly.”

He flushed even darker, “I would really rather you didn’t. She’s still alive and I would prefer it if she doesn’t recall that particular fact. Speaking of facts, it’s your turn, Varric.”

“I once saved Isabela and Alistair from the Antivan Crows. Alistair twice actually. I broke them out of Velabanchel and then Alistair got caught again and we teamed up to get him away from Prince Valisti. I swear, those two get into so much trouble whenever they try to work together. I’ve had to get them out of so many scrapes. I would have mentioned the time in Seheron but I assumed Tiny here would already know about it.” Varric gestured a thumb over to the suddenly surprised Iron Bull.

“That was you? You were the dwarf who helped the Arishok and Alistair kill Magister Titus?” Bull leaned forward with both hands on the table. 

“What…? They never figured out it was me? I really hope you aren’t going to put that in your next report. I don’t need the Ben-Hassrath deciding I need to be watched more than I already am.” Varric chuckled as he yawned slightly.

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re lying or not, Varric.” Esra shook her head and took a heavy drink from her second tankard.

Varric slapped a hand to his chest as though insulted, rocking his chair back on two legs, “Two lies? Nothing but lies? That is what you think of me? I will tell you, Nails, I am more than capable of telling the truth. New game. Two lies and one truth. That way everyone has to confess something.” 

Esra blinked as the realisation hit her, glancing over to Bull who put his hands up. “Don’t look at me, you’re the one who gave him the idea. Unless… you can’t tell a single truth.” 

“Fenedhis…” All three men leaned back with the frustrated growl before Esra shrugged, “Fine. I’ll play along. Varric first since the game is his idea.”

Cullen glanced at everyone placidly before focusing more on Esra, “I hadn’t known that you’re practised in more than one language.”

Another shrug greeted his rather stated question. “Just a few words. You need any more time, Varric?” 

He cracked his fingers with a smug grin, “The only thing that makes this even slightly difficult is Tiny’s Ben-Hassrath contacts. He might have heard things from the Qunari that were in Kirkwall. Alright. First, I have a cousin by marriage who is a Magister in Tevinter. Second, I met Jerrik Dace and he’s blond. Third, I’ve actually been present at seven of the Merchant’s Guild meetings since I took over after Bartrand went crazy.”

“I don’t believe that last one at all.” Cullen stated as soon as Varric had stopped speaking. 

Iron Bull frowned and sat back as he glanced over to Esra, “I don’t either, but I’m not sure about the other two. He’s pretty good at not giving things away. What do you think?”

Esra took a second long drink, staring into her cup for a while before glancing up. “In your book about the Champion in Kirkwall, you were there to watch her rise with the mercenary guild and that was what made you decide she was the one you needed for the trek into the Deep Roads your brother planned. Jerrik Dace asked the Hero of Ferelden to accompany him that same year. Of course, there are holes in my theory as travel is possible, but I don’t think you would have bothered when you had bigger things to worry about than meeting Dace… to do what? I think the second is false as well.”

The rogue stared at her briefly, “You read my book? Wait… how did you know about the Warden and Dace’s journey in the first place? It didn’t get any of the good gossip with everything going crazy at Amaranthine and Starkhaven, let alone Kirkwall.”

She gave the dwarf a sly smirk, “I lived under a stone but I still got some of the news. I kept an eye on Alistair after he ascended the throne and he married the Warden-Commander. I just happened to overhear something small.”

“Alright, you’re next then. You’re right, my cousin is married to a Magister. I think he almost gave his mother a heart attack but I kind of like the woman. We’re good friends. Your win, your turn.”

Esra tossed back her drink and then nodded to Cullen as he slid over what was left of his second tankard, drinking some of that too. She could lie about it all, if she kept her face clear. They’d suspect but never know for sure. Bull was watching her though, and his words had stung her pride when he had teased her about not being able to tell the truth. “First, I,” a face flashed before her eyes and she shook her head to be rid of it before she could think about who it was, “losing my brother to the Blight is one of my biggest regrets, I wish I could have saved him. Second, I joined the army in Ferelden at age seventeen and could already fight proficiently with a two-handed greatsword. Third, I was camping with my brother when I was fourteen and got mauled by a mother wolf whose den we stumbled upon.”

Cullen flinched slightly, “I would hate to think of either the first or third being true. But the second is equally terrifying given the time frame.”

Varric and Bull were looking at each other pensively, perhaps trying to make heads or tails of what they had learned. “The second is true.” Iron Bull nodded decisively, folding his arms. “And impressive if I’m right.”

“What about your brother though? Is he real?” Varric tilted his head with a frown as he watched Esra finish off Cullen’s drink. 

“He can stay dead.”

Cullen was the first to respond, “Greatsword and army training then. Yet you seem so determined not to use your skills.”

Despite the cold glare suddenly aimed at him, he didn’t flinch, it was enough to soften the biting tone she wanted to use, “It’s my decision, isn’t it? The reasons are my own.”

He surprised her by smiling at her with a lack of his usual awkwardness, “They are indeed. Perhaps you should consider them, however, and figure out if they’re still legitimate or if you should give yourself a second chance. It’s late, we all have to work early. I, at least, am going to try and sleep off whatever we just drank. Good night.”


	14. Building Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally organisation is coming to the Inquisition, trickling down from the top into the ranks of the refugees now tasked with helping make habitable their new fortress high in the mountains. Such a monumental project will take a large number of people although with more pilgrims arriving every day it won't be hard to have enough fighters and builders. Esra begins to find a niche she can settle into, but a few people seem determined to keep her from doing just that by "supporting" her growth into new areas of responsibility.

After Cullen had left, the games were dropped and Esra found herself relaxing a bit more than she had expected. Varric stopped pressing and Bull seemed content to see if he could outdo Varric in audacious stories. Esra spoke little but leaned back and couldn’t help a grin now and then as the Chargers and their leader called Varric on anything they thought was bullshit while he was fencing words with all of them in return. 

So, when she dragged herself out of her cot with a miserable groan at dawn to begin work for the day, she was more than happy to blame the lot of them for the pounding hangover. She couldn’t deny that it had helped her get even a little sleep though, so exhausted and drunk that she could barely remember passing out the night before. 

It took nearly half an hour for her to get herself motivated enough to dress and exit the makeshift room, chewing slowly through a dry bit of hard tack from her rations. The light was blinding through her sore eyes, especially with the thick snow surrounding the fortress, but enough of the snow had been cleared within it that if she kept her gaze down the brilliant mountains could be ignored.   
Whoever was in charge must have been aware that no one would be up at first light after the hellish trek from Haven because the small group of over-achievers and the obviously sleepless were simply lingering near Cassandra and the young man Esra had spotted working with Adan yesterday. If she was going to be honest with herself, only nearly two decades of habit had gotten her up when she did today. 

“Ah, well, thank you all for being present.” The boy had to be younger than her and he stuttered he was so anxious as he stepped away from the Seeker. Esra arched a brow and folded her arms over her chest to pull her long coat closer against the early morning cold at the back of the crowd while he cleared his throat. “I am Ser Morris, I am going to be taking over for Quartermaster Threnn and thought I should introduce myself. Many of you here right now will probably find yourselves in positions of leadership due to the dedication shown today. Please do not hesitate to come to me if you require supplies or equipment, I will do my level best to procure them for you. I will also be helping whoever is placed in charge of rebuilding efforts by Seeker Pentaghast and Commander Cullen who will both be overseeing when they can but will be delegating daily responsibilities for the most part. More than anything we want the work here to be done safely so do not work yourselves to exhaustion or carelessness.”

An older dwarf stepped forward with a grizzled frown, gesturing pointedly toward the battlements where many rooms were open to the elements. “Just going t’ ask what a lot of us are thinking, how we going to organise this? I don’t even want to say I know a damn about building but even with what little I know I can tell this is going to be a rough job. There’s a lot what needs to be done and we don’t have much to work with.” Several people nodded, rallying behind him as he reached back to rub the back of his head. Esra had a feeling he was one of the people who couldn’t sleep.

“An excellent point, one we will make sure to address. And what name might we know you by?” Esra was as surprised by the cheerful voice as the rest of the band was. Everyone turned to look despite the unmistakable accent. How in the ruddy blazes could Josephine look spry and glorious even this early? It was damned unfair. She approached to stand next to Cassandra with her tablet and quill in hand as always, looking at the dwarf expectantly.

“Sherice. Not that it matters, you lot might ask all of our names but I’d be shocked as hell if you could remember all of them.” He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets, one heavy boot scuffing at the gravel of the courtyard. 

Josephine’s smile was so brightly polite it was almost terrifying and Esra was suddenly very glad she hadn’t asked the question first. “You are quite right, Master Sherice, but it will not be difficult at all to remember the certain few who are given positions. Asking the important questions and looking for the details instead of the big picture are admirable traits in a foreman.” Someone snorted back a laugh as Sherice’s jaw dropped slightly, seemingly having a hard time wrapping his mind around the quick turns of the Antivan ambassador’s. “Ser Morris, Lady Pentaghast, and I will be more than happy to confer with you and even rely upon your thoughts on how to proceed with unifying volunteers.”

Over the next few minutes a few more stepped up, likely deciding it would be easier to own up to their abilities now rather than waiting for Josephine to track them down. As a half hour passed they had found two masons, a roofer, a foundation expert, and a young man named Ser Draman who stepped up to assist the new Quartermaster. “Now, Lady Ambassador, you can’t expect me t’ order around every refugee the Inquisition gets. Am I going t’ have people t’ help me out too?” Sherice had taken a few moments looking like a furnace bellows before he had simply sighed and tried to get used to the new responsibility. 

“Why, of course Foreman. We all acknowledge that this is a new experience for many members of the Inquisition’s forces. It is a large group we must now coach into working together as seamlessly as possible.” The golden women bowed her head in a respectful nod, patient but resolute gaze on the dwarf she was addressing. “Hire as many as you need to keep things running well.”

Sherice nodded in return but his frown only deepened to furrow his brow as he looked up at the battlements and around to the buildings they had only started uncovering the day before. “Alright. Might as well get started and I’ll just direct people as they wake up and wander out here. Jaine, you said you know foundations? Go meet that surfacer Gatsi in the Main Hall and work with him on his notes.” He pointed to the two masons, “Amsel, right? And Gannon? I’ll keep you both on separate teams and give you the larger stonework tasks like that bloody staircase that fell to pieces. You, Berinole,” Now he turned toward another refugee, “You can handle the roofing. You pick who works on it and how, you know the most of it so you write the rules. I want it as safe as can be.”

Despite his shock at being put in the position, Sherice took to it with gusto, delivering orders in a way that Esra knew would have made her former Captain proud as hell. Within an hour, he was stalking the grounds keeping a keen eye on every project. Anyone who stumbled out was swiftly snapped up and placed on a work gang. Esra found herself working on a team clearing the towers along the battlements run by Amsel. Gannon was in clear view working his crew deliberately to get the stairs up onto the battlements cleared of rubble. 

Even with the headache and weariness, Esra threw herself into the work, pulling vines down and shifting rubble. Amsel paced the room all the while, a gaunt man from Markham with solemn grey eyes, almost appearing to stare through the stone itself as he decided how to proceed with repairs. Their group consisted of about a dozen elves and men, both men and women, everyone quiet with focus. The work gave everyone a chance to really digest the events of the last few weeks, Esra could see the mental strain on every face. It wasn’t the shock of people who had never been faced with tragedy that she saw, sadly. Instead they bore the silent language of people who were exhausted from never catching a damn break. 

Vance or Jeremiah wouldn’t have been able to handle the silent sorrow. They’d all been hams but those two were always the first to start up trouble.

“The best of us ran when the dreadnought was sighted. Nuggins, Nuggins! For he heard the call. Tripped nine Qunari, and that's why he's knighted! Nuggins, Nuggins! As brave as he's small.” The song started softly and Esra nearly winced at the rasp that would always accompany her voice. It was hardly the prettiest sound one would ever find but the anxiety eased when the woman working next to her suddenly choked on a quick laugh before glancing sheepishly over at Esra.

It had been one of their favourite tavern songs and a go to when they’d been drinking around the fire. Esra stretched and lifted another heavy fragment of brick as the stranger joined her and the song grew. “Oh! A shore full of pirates, the worst set to happen. Nuggins, Nuggins! His heart pure and true. Tripped him an admiral, now he's our captain! Nuggins, Nuggins! For me and for you!” 

Amsel and the rest of the group were startled as well for a moment but caught on quickly. A few, including Amsel, just laughed and went back to work, but enough joined in that Esra and her companion didn’t feel as awkward about continuing. The air of the entire room changed in an instant, the people within it meeting the eyes of their fellow refugees as the work picked up. 

“Oh! The blight was upon us, and we found no pardon. Nuggins, Nuggins! Now he'll make a stand! Tripped up the darkspawn, and now he's a Warden! Nuggins, Nuggins! For all in the land!” One of the men had a deep, powerful voice as he started the next verse excitedly. Esra grinned, sure they could hear him at least outside where other people worked. 

One or two more people finally joined in for the last verse, the laughter clear in the way everyone was singing now. “Oh! Paraded through Kirkwall as hero and winner! Nuggins, Nuggins! Stubborn and vicious! Tripped up a viscount, now he's for dinner! Nuggins, Nuggins! Of course, he's delicious!” Low laughter followed it up, especially when an elven man added, “Aye, I would have liked to see a nug as viscount in Kirkwall, would’ve done a better job by half! And then fed a whole family in the Alienage there.”

“Why do I want to see the Champion of Kirkwall fight a nug to see who wins now?” The question posed by the normally aloof Amsel had at least two people leaning on the walls they were laughing so hard with the images conjured. 

Emboldened by her success, Esra grinned widely while she continued working. Someone started another tavern song simply because they could but she didn’t sing along although she enjoyed the camaraderie building in the tower. If this was what the Inquisition would be for her, suddenly the thought of staying didn’t seem so bad. Drinking with people in the evenings and working with them during the day. 

Varric would be a nuisance though, wanting her to make friends when she just wanted to exist like a shadow until this was over and she could go home. Helping from the background and getting used to being around others again after near a decade alone, away from things that brought up bad memories or made her freeze. The smile slid away at that thought, reminded immediately of the armour buried at Haven among fellow and foe. Was it as much of a loss as it had felt then or was it the whole damn world telling her to let things go in the past?

If it ever came back, she would deal with it then. 

Forcing her focus back to her task, the crew worked for an hour more until Sherice arrived with another group freshly woken. “Amsel, give one of them orders and then all of you take a break. Only letting my crews work six hours at a time, we have enough people to make the shifts work. Got t’ keep you lot productive.” 

Esra expected it when a few of her team asked her to join them for a midday meal. She accepted but sat a bit away and didn’t say much, a faint smile showing. She did not expect it when Sherice and Amsel came to join them about two hours later, looking around for someone. Her stomach dropped sickeningly when Amsel pointed to her and they made their way over. “Amsel tells me you put effort in today on the morale not just the rubbish.” The dwarf was still gruff but quiet now and a bit hoarse from giving directions all day. 

Awkwardly she cleared her throat to speak but then stopped. Instead she gave a slight nod and shrugged before continuing, “Sort of off the top of my head but I could tell everyone was stuck in a bit of a pit so I gave it a shot. Had some friends once who were good at that sort of thing, tried to do what they would have done.”

Sherice nodded thoughtfully, “Makes sense. Bit surprised it was you, you’ve been pretty withdrawn every time I’ve seen you. Mind if I move you around now and then to improve morale in other teams? I won’t demand it but I think it’ll help a lot.”

The request left the veteran stunned for a long moment, breaking the shock by blinking rapidly a few times. “I mean… I guess. Can’t say it’ll work on everyone.”

A heavy hand waved dismissively, “No one gets along with everyone. Thanks, I’ll keep an eye out for the ones struggling the most. I’ll find some other people to move around as well, won’t put the Inquisition’s happy feelings entirely on your shoulders. Let me know, I’m serious, let me know if you start getting burnt out. I’ll grant you time off, people like you are the ones we need operating at full. You look like you didn’t sleep, I can tell cause I didn’t much either, take the rest of the day. That IS an order.” The stern look he gave her then reminded her, if slightly uncomfortably, of her Captain again.

“I’ll try to remember that…” Esra fumbled with her answer, lost for a response, but it didn’t seem to faze him as he nodded decisively and turned to walk away. Amsel just grinned at her and tipped an invisible hat before wandering off himself. 

Turning around, Esra found her gaze focusing on the stairs to the Main Hall out of instinct. Commander Cullen smiled faintly and bowed from the waist.

Well, damn. She’d been utterly set up. She just knew it. 

Unexpectedly, she now decided that perhaps even more than Varric and Iron Bull, the former Templar was going to be a far more troublesome opponent.


	15. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chargers have returned from scouting Haven's ruins at the request of the new Inquisitor Lavellan, Herald of Andraste. One thing in particular caught Krem's attention and when brought to Iron Bull it reveals something that startles Cullen and Leliana. Arcanist Dagna arrives and settles in, aided by some helpful labourers willing to heave her odd contraptions into the Undercroft. Another well-meaning conversation with Varric.
> 
> ** Thank you so much for your interest! I never thought I'd hit 100 views, I hope some of you have liked it enough to check in for new chapters. I would really appreciate any comments or advise/feedback any of you would like to give so that I can improve this story and perhaps get even more viewers following! Here's a bonus chapter as a thank you for helping me hit 100, have an amazing day!

“Hey Chief, I found this in some of the unclaimed belongings we brought back from Haven with us. I don’t recognise the design, want to take a guess?” Krem walked into the tavern with a heavy burlap sack, stained with dirt, and placed his burden on the table next to Iron Bull’s normal seat. “Don’t know why it was there, it’s way past being useful, but I figured someone might want it back if we can find the owner.”

Bull grunted and tore his gaze from a sassy waitress who had been tossing him smiles for the last ten minutes, setting his drink down and stretching. “Good call. Even damaged if they brought it to Haven they wanted it for a reason.” He rose from his chair with a little stiffness, having only come back the night before from another venture with the Inquisitor. He almost felt bad for the woman, she was out constantly traveling and fighting while her companions could switch out. She’d gotten a few hours of sleep last night and then he had watched her leave at dawn with Sera, Blackwall, and Solas instead of himself, Varric, and Dorian. Pulling open the bag, the frown was instant as he leaned in and flipped a piece of sundered armour without removing it from its sack. “Definitely Ferelden. Mabari all over it. Wait a minute… it can’t be.” A shocked eye met Krem’s just as startled stare, “Let’s go, I want to ask Leliana or Cullen something. Need some verification. Varric is going to have a field day with this if I’m right.”

Krem hefted the armour, careful to keep it covered as the pair left the tavern and made their way toward the main hall of Skyhold. “Chief?”

The Qunari shook his head, raising a hand slightly, “Not yet. I don’t want someone to overhear and get over-excited. Cullen, glad I caught you, come on.” He raised his voice slightly to stop the Commander who was on his way through Solas’ study towards his own office. The Templar looked confused but shrug to the equally curious Varric who stood by the fireplace and then followed. Varric, unable to help himself, caught up as they were going up the stairs to the library despite the lack of invitation.

“Bull, what seems to be the problem?” Cullen had to pick up his pace slightly to meet Iron Bull’s long strides, all three men giving each other lost looks behind the warrior’s broad back. 

“Not here, up in the rookery. I want to include Leliana too. This might not be a big deal but it will be for some people.” Bull started up the next flight of stairs, ducking to avoid hitting his horns on the low door frame before approaching Leliana where she sat at the table looking over new letters and older files. “Go ahead and put it down Krem, don’t wear yourself out.”

Cullen stopped at the side of the table, Varric hanging back by the top of the stairs, as Krem settled the heavy bag on the surface as best he could without disturbing Leliana’s paperwork. “I’m used to getting gifts from foreign dignitaries but it is very sweet that all four of you worked together to bring me something yourselves. It is very appreciated.” The bard hadn’t even looked up yet but amusement made her Orlesian accent even heavier than normal while a careful hand detailed her response to the note from one of her spies. 

With an abnormal degree of secrecy, Bull looked around to make sure only the close-mouthed were present before reaching into the bag and pulling out the ruined breastplate. Leliana’s attention shifted with the abrupt response to her teasing but as she noted what he held her eyes widened imperceptibly. “Bull…”

He set the metal down on the table, shifting so Cullen could move closer. The Commander was examining their find with sudden focus, “Very high quality, older style. It seems so familiar, it’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t…”

“Look at the enamel, Commander. Golden mabari? No Ferelden soldier has worn it in ten years. No one wanted to after the defeat at Ostagar, too many memories of Cailan’s golden mabari armour he was so known for.” Leliana rose to her feet to lean over and pull a dented helm from the weathered sack, turning it over in her hands. “I had heard tales but I’d never thought to see it. This isn’t Cailan’s, King Alistair went back to Ostagar and retrieved that, I was there when he and the Warden returned with it.”

Cullen nodded with a sudden frown, “They didn’t give this sort of thing to the entire army. It’s too expensive and it would have been a statement. You put specific people in it. Maybe his royal guard? How did it get here though?”

Krem shrugged and folded his arms, “The Inquisitor asked the Chargers to go back and scout Haven. We brought back what belongings we could find and some survivors along with a few enemy corpses to let your mage friends get a good look at what we’re up against. This was in with it, wrapped in a crushed tent almost at the edge of the lake. Wouldn’t have found it but Grim accidentally kicked it, funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Bull scratched idly at a horn, “So we have what appears to be a full set of remnant armour from Cailan’s royal guard. Who supposedly died with him at Ostagar. It’s female, you can tell that much, but it’s practical too. Quality workmanship. So, we’ve either got a looter who realised they had found good stuff, or someone went back to get this for sentimentality. I don’t think these wounds were survivable.”

“I don’t know, Bull… I wouldn’t rule out the possibility. We’ve seen far more improbable things happen recently. We should keep this quiet for now until we know what we’re looking at. I would most definitely like to see who claims it, however. Then we will have a better idea how to handle the situation. Keep it with the rest of the retrieved items when you allow the refugees to collect them.” Leliana looked rather stunned as she sat back down, one hand lingering on the caved helm. “This poor woman.”

“Fine, I won’t discount it. Twenty royals says I’m right and she died, though. I kinda hate to think that she might not have, it would have been excruciating.” Bull grunted slightly as he put everything back into the bag and Krem picked it up again. 

Mischief filled the bard’s expression once again as she smiled at Bull, “I believe I will take those odds.”

Turning to leave, they noticed Varric had slipped out during the discussion. Halfway back down to the library, Cullen quietly spoke up, “Do you think he has an idea who it belongs to?”

The responding grin was almost sad as the Qunari nodded, “I think all three of us had the same idea but we’ll have to wait and see. Damn, I hope I won that bet though. Cullen, you and I have been there and seen what it takes to do that kind of damage. It… hurts to think someone might have to carry that every day. It’d be kinder for them to die.” 

Quietly the Commander mulled over his response until they had almost reached the main hall, “Perhaps you’re right, Bull. We’ll see.”

Esra sat back on her heels with a sigh, her left arm aching as she pushed her hair back from her damp face. After the first week of working, eventually people had stopped staring at the scars and the odd haircut thankfully, something that had been making her increasingly self-conscious. New arrivals would occasionally freeze to the spot as she walked by but then someone would nudge them to keep them going. While she rubbed at the sore limb, she looked at how much work was left to clear the stairwell. Gannon’s crew had been struggling with the workload so Sherice had requested she join them to keep them motivated. It was obvious they needed to power through this project soon, it was daunting how much damage had been done to the stonework here. 

A hand touched her shoulder, a shudder running down her back as he contemplation was shattered. Almost tipping over, she grabbed at the stone to steady herself and twisted to look up. It was only Sherice, who looked a little abashed at having given her a scare. “My bad. It looked like you needed a bit of a break and I need some help moving equipment into the Undercroft. Give me a hand or two?”  
Clearing her throat, Esra managed a half grin as she rose to her feet, dusting her hands off, “I can give you about a hand and a half, one of them isn’t working right today. Lead on, Foreman.”

Sherice snorted derisively but smirked behind the heavy beard as he started back down the steps to the lower courtyard where a wagon had pulled in the gate. It stopped at the bottom of the steps and several of Leliana’s agents climbed down from it, one holding the door open to let a wide eyed young dwarf jump down as well. She turned in circles that felt a little over exaggerated, staring up at her surroundings with the widest smile of excitement. The Foreman groaned under his breath and Esra bit back a snicker. 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? Skyhold. It’s so… old! And strong. You can tell it has good bones. Oh, hey there!” The bubbly woman had finally noticed them approaching and, if possible, her smile widened even though she wrung her hands before her a bit shyly. Her cheeks were pink with cold and exhilaration. 

Trying to maintain his composure, Sherice extended a hand to shake hers. “Sherice, I’m the Foreman here at Skyhold. I heard you had equipment you need moved into the Undercroft where we have the forges set up?”

“Dagna. Arcanist Dagna, actually. Yes, thank you very much. I wouldn’t be able to move it all myself, it can only come apart into so many bits and pieces. Wow, I didn’t expect it to be so… big!” Esra was trying so hard not to grin, the stern Sherice a bit taken aback by the constant flow of words. To save herself, she wandered around to the back of the cart to peer inside at what they needed to haul. A metal head stared back at her and she dropped the cloth to cover the entrance again. Giving Sherice a peculiar look over Dagna’s head, she shook herself and opened it again before stepping up and inside the curtain. 

“Looks like pretty large objects, Foreman. We might need one or two more people to get it up the steps. Especially since there are so many steps.” Carefully she jumped back down, “Maybe a team if we can find the spare people, so that we can take breaks after each staircase. There’re three or four of these big machines.”

Sherice nodded and frowned as he and Dagna came around to join her and he looked in for himself. “I see some smaller pieces. Mind starting with the ones that aren’t too dense to carry solo and lead the Arcanist to Undercroft while I look for backup?” Esra’s only response was to nod and reach in for an armload of disassembled pieces. The strain made the ache in her arm travel up her back but she simply set off up the stairs with Dagna at her side. 

“I didn’t catch your name.”

Dark eyes glanced down at Dagna, an eyebrow arching. She was quiet for a minute before responding, “Esra.”

Dagna smiled a bit awkwardly and then nodded, “That’s a nice name. Everyone here seems so withdrawn. How long have you been with the Inquisition?”

So, it was going to be her turn to have a conversation with the enthusiastic Arcanist Dagna. “You’ve only met Sherice, me, and Leliana’s agents. It gets better, especially the closer you get to the tavern. The Inquisitor has a unique sense of humour as well.” For a moment she went quiet again, thinking back. “I was there for four days before Haven fell but I was on bedrest for all but the last eight or nine hours. I’ve been here since. So perhaps almost a month? It took a few days to get here from Haven and we’ve been here a week. Almost a month sounds about right.”

The Arcanist nodded sagely and glanced up at the balcony above the main hall where Enchantress Vivienne stood watching the crowds pass below. “Was it really an Archdemon? I went to the Circle tower on Lake Calenhad but I didn’t see much of the Fifth Blight.”

“No. I don’t think it is. I can’t tell you what it is, but there aren’t any other Darkspawn aside from that dragon and Lord Long-Winded.” Esra shrugged, her tone dry as the Hissing Wastes as her lips twitched into a faint smirk.

It had the desired effect. Dagna giggled at the name, looking a bit guilty like they’d been caught passing notes during a Chantry service. “Lord Long-Winded? I guess you don’t take him all that seriously then. I mean… he destroyed Haven, that’s nothing to scoff at.”

A frown replaced the more relaxed expression as they stepped into the darker interior of the throne hall. “No. He attacked Haven but we destroyed it. It was our choice, we didn’t give him the chance. We made the plan and executed it to spite him and take away his control of the situation. That’s how you handle a megalomaniac who thinks he’s God. You laugh in his face. Sera does it a lot too but half the time I can’t tell if she’s messing it up on purpose or honestly can’t get his name right. Besides, if you’d been there, you’d realise the name fits. The Inquisitor told Varric all about the Darkspawn’s monologue.” Esra cleared her throat and copped a guttural voice, “Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.” The smirk returned a bit stronger, “If he’d actually seen it, he’d have noticed you can’t sit the butts of several gods in one single throne. Only the Maker has a seat up there.” 

Dagna almost collapsed with another fit of laughter, leaning slightly on the door to Undercroft as she held it open. Esra had no idea how the woman was making it so easy to talk so much but it was nice to feel like she wasn’t forcing herself to converse for once. She couldn’t get annoyed with her either, like she could with Varric. “You’ve got a point there, Esra, I can’t argue with that. I think I’ll do that too, and maybe see what sort of names this Sera came up with too. I think laughing is a lot better than being scared…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened as she took in the size of Undercroft. Harritt glanced up at them but huffed and kept working on the piece he had in his forge. 

“She’s in the tavern most of the time, loud blonde elf who likes to wear bright colours and play pranks. You can’t miss her. If you want, get settled in. Could get these bits organised and as soon as we’ve gotten all those contraptions in here I’ll help you put them all back together.” With a nod, Esra stooped to set the parts she had carried in down on the ground before turning to head back outside with a wave to Harritt.

Back in the courtyard, absolutely no one looked happy as they examined the massive equipment they would now have to haul to the Undercroft. 

“Hey, it isn’t so bad. I’ll get drinks for everyone when we’re done.” Sherice was trying to bribe them as she walked over, making her swallow a grin at her foreman’s expense once again.

“We might need some drinks to get started, Foreman.” Esra chuckled as he gave her a harried glare but he relaxed when he noticed she was already standing at the corner of the first machine and waving a few other people over. “Come on lads, faster we start the faster it’s over.”

A huge yawn fought past Esra’s control three hours later as she and Dagna wandered into the tavern. The dwarven woman went on an exploratory search for Sera, entirely serious about asking her for the names she had given Corypheus since Haven’s fall, although Esra had a feeling the elven rogue probably hadn’t returned yet if she was out with the Inquisitor scouting. Esra snorted and heaved herself onto a stool at the bar with a grimace at the soreness of her back. “Whatever she’s ordering, make it two. I heard that you showed a sense of humour today, Nails. What a surprise.”

Esra’s eyes rolled skyward, or ceiling-ward in this case, in a silent plea for aid as Varric settled next to her with a wide grin. “Oh, don’t be like that. You like me or you would have punched me by now. You seem like the punching sort. Cassandra is more… stabby.”

“I take it you’re back from adventuring with Lavellan?” The weary labourer forced down another yawn as she leaned against the bar and finally gave Varric a faint smile. He wasn’t totally wrong, he was growing on her even though she constantly felt like she needed to be on guard around him, Iron Bull, and Cullen. 

He nodded and rubbed at the edge of his jaw, staring out of a window briefly. “Yeah, we didn’t go far this time, I’ve been here all day but I felt a bit like sleeping in. The Fallow Mire really lives up to its unfortunate name. I will give it to Ferelden’s they try to be completely accurate when they name shit.”

Esra snorted in amusement, folding her arms over her chest, “As long as we’re good at something, I suppose. I would prefer hearing about how well we name things than this bullshit about us sleeping with our dogs.”

Varric laughed at the sardonic statement, “It’s a step up, to be sure. Don’t mention that rumour around Sparkler or you’ll never hear the end of it. Oh, Dorian. I call him Sparkler.”

“Appropriate given what little I’ve seen of him. He’s… colourful. Also, ostentatious.” 

An eyebrow arched as Varric chuckled again. “Woah, if I didn’t write so much I might have needed to look that one up. He’s a fun guy. You should talk to him sometime, maybe a few other people.” He caught the look on her face and sighed faintly, “Nails, I get it. You don’t want to let people in, that’s okay. But there’s a difference between keeping a boundary and being completely cut off. Even the quiet types need one or two people to interact with, you know… friends. Odd concept, I’m sure. Otherwise something inside starts to shrink and get sick. You’ve pushed everyone away so hard, aren’t you even a little tired of it?” 

Frowning slightly, Esra stared down into the mug that had been set on the counter in front of her. Varric had one as well. She had no idea what it was since she hadn’t ordered but part of her didn’t care. “It’s not that easy, Varric.”

“Not when you do it alone, Nails. Give it some thought. We’re all in this together and I’m sure plenty here would be willing to help you, but I won’t push any farther.” He held up a hand and gave her a brief smile before blinking and snapping his fingers, “I almost forgot. The Chargers came back today and they found a bunch of stuff at Haven. Personal belongings. They’ll probably start returning it tomorrow, keep an eye out for anything you might want back. I know you said you didn’t have much, but it might be there.”


	16. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esra knows her armour has finally followed her to Skyhold, though she's worried it's a setup and yet tries to convince herself she's exaggerating. Perhaps not as much as she wants to believe, however. Iron Bull, Kremisius Aclassi, Leliana, Cullen, and Varric all know of the armour's existence and have guesses about its origin. From that moment on, Varric is determined to figure out just how in over her head Esra is and whether they all need to step in. The Inquisition's strength is in its people, not even the least of them will be left behind to suffer. Not while those at it's heart have the wiles and determination to put the pieces together.

Not unexpectedly, despite how hard she had worked to tire herself out and how her head throbbed with complaint, the moon had reached its peak around one in the morning to shine dimly on a solitary figure pacing the ramparts in a thick jacket. 

Esra knew where each of the sentries were posted for the night watch on the walls but she couldn’t shake a sensation of being watched. It could have just been her mind but, before walking down that path and wondering if she was losing her mind, she reminded herself that some of Leliana’s agents were probably lurking as well. 

This time it wasn’t even the nightmares. Simply a pervasive restlessness that happened at least once a week where she felt jumpy and couldn’t settle enough to sleep. Annoying to say the least but it hopefully meant that when she tried to sleep the next night she would be too exhausted to dream. 

Varric’s offhand comment had shaken her a bit more than she was willing to admit, even to herself. Of course, there was the very real possibility that it had been intended to do just that, she wouldn’t put it past him. The dwarf knew better than most the power of words and not a single one he used was delivered without consideration nor were they harmless. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became that he was testing her again. 

In half-hearted vengeance, she kicked a rock and watched it bounce back toward her off the battlements with a dim clatter. They didn’t know what they were asking. She couldn’t be angry with any of them, it was obvious that they held good intentions. That door could not be opened or even ventured near. Esra wasn’t sure what would happen if it was disturbed but nothing that could come from bringing light onto it would be good. It had taken almost two years to push everything back and dam it up so that she could passably function. Ignoring everything had just let it fester over time into this terrifying mass that lurked over her shoulder till she couldn’t even look at it or turn around for fear it would physically be there. These nightmares and sleepless nights, the nausea and paranoia, it was just overflow and she knew it well. Staying by herself in the Brecilian Forest had allowed her to maintain a weak stability where she felt like half of her former self but she also didn’t feel like she was dying with every breath. Here at Skyhold there was too much to remind her of before even without a few good people knocking on locked and barred doors. 

Esra heaved out a breath weighty with troubled thoughts that clouded in the cold air, trying to come to a decision without really taking out and looking at the things she was debating on. This would just be one more night of realising she needed work but not actually taking any steps to do so. Turning away from the height of the battlements she followed the rampart to the staircase leading to the courtyard. Past her a shadow leaned against a doorframe with its arms folded across its chest.

Who would be awake at this early hour? Esra would have normally set to work on chores back at her cabin but here the ringing of hammer on stone might disturb someone. The silent castle pulsed with life and the night breathed as she once again recalled just how many people surrounded her. The idea of returning to such an existence and somehow pretending that she hadn’t been irrevocably changed had always been impossible, let alone finding a comfortable middle ground that allowed her to remember the past while moving forward. Starting a new life? The idea was enough to arrest her breath in her lungs with a cold squeeze. She felt too much guilt to let it happen.

Finding herself in the tavern again, she settled at a bench to at least be moderately comfortable and out of the wind while she waited for morning to arrive. 

“Hey, I’m pretty sure I saw you leave last night. I hope you know I run a bar not a bed and breakfast.” A firm hand shook her and Esra had to grip the table to keep from falling as she jerked awake in a panic. “Steady. It’s almost time to open, you can catch your breath till we do.” Esra rubbed at a reddened cheek in a daze, blinking as a tin mug of water was placed before her. Had she been that tired? She couldn’t recall exactly what she remembered last. 

“Sorry. It was unintentional. I was taking a walk and stepped out of the wind but I guess I was more tired than I thought.” One hand covered a yawn that made her scratchy eyes water, a grimace spreading as she tried to straighten out and the muscles of her back screeched in response. He waved her off dismissively so she quietly finished her water and returned the mug before venturing back outside to determine just how early it was yet. Not many were up and about yet, but of course Foreman Sherice was. He stood on the staircase outside of Skyhold’s hall with Berinole, the jittery roofer from Denerim. 

Sherice rubbed a hand over his greying face with a rasping groan, “Alright. The Ambassador told us t’ commit Garin with the ones we lost at Haven and took his information t’ find his family. The group he was part of can take time off if they need it or move elsewhere if they want t’ just keep working, I need t’ be ready t’ shuffle some people around. Berinole, make sure your people know to be bloody careful, I really don’t want t’ do this again.” 

The dismay was obvious on Berinole’s face as the man nodded, stuffing his hands in his rope belt. “I will. Morris approved my requisition for sandbags so we’ll have that in likely in two weeks. I’ll check that my men are tying off to the scaffolding so that they won’t have as much risk of falling.”

The foreman nodded and then glanced around, catching sight of Esra’s slow approach. “We lost one. Younger lad. I was hoping he’d make it but he hit his head on a paving stone. Lights were on but no one was home anymore. He passed quietly though, don’t think it hurt long.” He shrugged wearily and folded his arms over his chest. “You’re looking worse for wear yourself. If you’re going t’ insist on working, I want you t’ keep both feet on the ground.”

“Understood, Foreman. Honestly… I’m not sure what I want to do.” A frown formed as she glanced over to the empty construction sites waiting to be returned to. Work would keep her distracted but she was feeling sick to her stomach. “I heard there’s been some salvage found at Haven. I’ll check and see if they have any of my stuff and then let you know if I’ll be able to work today. Maybe I can shake this off.”

“Alright. Be honest when you’re done. I refuse t’ have more injuries and deaths than can be avoided and you haven’t taken a break since before Haven.” His look was piercing but slightly relieved as he dismissed Berinole and moved past her towards the tavern.

The entrance to the throne hall gaped like an abyssal void before her. She had thus far never been inside the main keep of Skyhold, preferring to stay out of the way and close to her work. Now, instead of apathy, she found she was anxious to her bones of finding the single burlap sack in there which held all she had left of a life she had once lived with pride. 

Shaking her head, she bundled up tighter against the chilly morning and made herself move forward. Passing Varric who was settling into his normal chair by the fireplace outside of Solas’ study, she was more than a little shocked when he just waved and smiled at her rather than following to chat. Enough so, that she nodded in return with an uncertain smile of her own before continuing. 

The moment distracted her enough that as she reached to open the door onto the hallway where the kitchens and Josephine’s office were connected, she didn’t hear the assured steps behind it. The hefty wood knocked into her and both people gave a corresponding sound of surprise before a strong grip caught her jacket collar to keep her from falling ungracefully on her ass.

“Sorry, I should’ve checked before just pounding through, I have his habit of ramming my way through obstacles.” Bright blue eyes flashed over a bright smile, black hair mussed and a red stripe of paint across the woman’s pale face. She reached out with her other hand to steady Esra, only releasing her when she seemed solidly on her feet.

“Hawke. Varric’s descriptions are more apt than I expected. I wasn’t paying attention either, sort of in my own world today. Thanks for the assist, you’ve got some frightening reflexes.” Esra grinned faintly as Hawke straightened, oddly tall but lean as a stick. 

At that an eyebrow cut through by a small scar arched and she leaned out slightly to give Varric a pointed look. Her attempt to not laugh or smile ruined the affect slightly and Varric grinned brazenly in return. “It worries me how much he talks about me. At this point I think the Inquisition knows more about me than I do. Were you going somewhere specific before I tried to flatten you?”

Esra shrugged slightly and slipped her hands into her pockets, “I heard they brought some salvage back from Haven, thought I’d rummage and see if my stuff made the cut.”

Hawke nodded, her half-smirk dimming before outright vanishing as she caught sight of someone else past Esra’s shoulder. She gave a quick gesture to hurry inside and then pulled Esra forward without waiting so the door would close. “They’ve got the stuff down here. It’s the only room big enough without needing to be used constantly. I’ve been hiding from Cassandra in the kitchens all day because they give me all the food I want.” The rogue winked idly checking behind them as they went down the staircase into the large hall that led to the kitchens and drink cellar. “I can’t tell if she stops breathing around me because she wants to gut me or has a case of fan adoration. I heard all about how angry she was with Varric. You want anything to eat? I can grab it then help you look. Actually, get started, I’ll do it anyway. Just in case the Seeker walks down here, I’ll be out of sight.” 

As Hawke vanished with a laugh, Esra took a moment to think about what had just occurred. Hawke was a bit like a hurricane, hard to keep up with but catching up everything around her. She could see where the awe-inspiring tales came from, she was a powerful presence. 

Feeling quite a bit more awake, although rather confused, Esra looked around at the large piles. It was more than she expected but not enough to cover the floor. Four or five mounds about hip high were placed in an odd semblance of attempted organisation. One rather clearly held a number of discarded personal weapons and armour, another was comprised of clothing. Odd trinkets tumbled down the slope of a third in complete disorder. 

It took only a breath of time to find what she looked for. Eight long years she had looked at that bag like it was just as dangerous as the darkspawn. The loose threads; that stain above the bottom corner. A tear halfway up its ragged length where the ruined breastplate had sawed through the coarse fibres. It would smell like dried embrium and tea leaves if she leaned in. The combination hid the smell of old blood. 

Instead of decisively approaching the pile and lifting what she knew was hers, she slowly paced the piles and peered through several bags in each. The objects she beheld took none of her attention, rather she waited to see if she noticed anyone in the room. An uneasy feeling made her stomach queasy but Hawke remained in the kitchens and no one else was coming into view. There weren’t many places to hide save a few doorways. Esra grew disgusted with her paranoia the longer it took to work up the courage to take the armour. 

“Oh, by the Maker.” Growling the words at herself, she rearranged the items around the sack and opened it partway. The thump of her heart as antiqued gold embossing weakly shined back at her was physically painful, causing her hand to clench in the fabric. When was the last time she’d honestly looked at the suit? Perhaps when she had tucked it into a bag and thrown it inside of a chest, which she had locked and never returned to. In near a decade light had not shined on the metal. Grimacing, she cinched it closed and hefted it; now was not the time for the skies to witness the golden mabari again. 

Turning, she left the room without a single glance back, realising with a twinge of guilt that Hawke might come back to find her gone. Hawke would be fine, though, or she would track her down and ask about it. They were just strangers, after all, Hawke hadn’t even asked for her name. Slowing only a pace, Esra shook herself and continued back to her haphazard quarters.

“Jumpy thing. The last time I saw someone that anxious, it was when I caught Bethany trying to hide those books Isabela keeps sending her. She picked up the bag you pointed out to me, though why you’re so interested I can’t fathom.” Hawke leaned against the mantel of the fireplace next to Varric a moment later, arching an eyebrow at her best friend. 

Varric scowled briefly into the flames and then rubbed the back of his neck, “Because sometimes people don’t want to tell stories but they have to come out… you know what I mean, Hawke. I needed to see just how bad this was before deciding to let it go or press. And it’s bad. Oh, don’t give me that look, you know I can multi-task. I won’t let this distract me from both major wars going on. But she needs help, Hawke. She needs it or she won’t make it to see us beat Corypheus again.”

Hawke blinked and folded her arms over her chest with a tilt of her head, “Still got a soft spot for strays I see. She won’t appreciate it if you had to go to this kind of effort just to figure out this much.”

The dwarf nodded, pensive but determined. “Probably not. Doesn’t mean that I should walk away when I see something wrong and know I can change it. Even if I did, Tiny and Curly would step in anyway. I don’t do this? High chance she dies. There's too much here that could trigger a bad reaction, especially since it seems her troubled history revolves around battle. I’d rather her back on her feet and not talking to me than honoured on the memorial wall Josephine is planning for the Haven dead.”

The week progressed normally, allowing Esra to relax when no questions about the armour came up. Either no one cared or no one had seen, both suited her just fine even though the idea that such a recognisable design might be so old as to be forgotten or, worse, worthless. Why she allowed it to bother her, she had no clue and tried her damndest to forget about it. Inquisitor Lavellan returned and the next morning left with Varric, Iron Bull, and Solas, leaving the alarmed Seeker Cassandra a note about dragon hunting in the Hinterlands. It left the place oddly quiet without Varric’s banter, he seemed to find entertainment in turning up at odd moments of her day as though by chance. Dagna had finally met Sera, judging by the peals of laughter coming from the second level of the bar. Esra rested and chatted a surprising amount with Krem Aclassi from Bull’s Chargers, finding the man just as easy to get along with as Dagna herself. Neither pressed for anything but small talk and a good joke, in fact he was more than happy to just tell stories about Bull and the Chargers. Sleep was still sparse and nightmares frequent but it was enough to keep mobile even with Sherice’s constant worry over the bags under her eyes. 

“Aye, that Templar does alright but he’s been too long in the Free Marches. I just don’t know if he really understands what warfare is like in Ferelden territory anymore. Kirkwall has its own issues, but it isn’t wild like most of our lands are. I think we should bring in her Ladyship Anora MacTir as an advisor to the Inquisition. She’s at least half as good as her father though no one can replace him. It was a hideous cost when Ferelden lost him.”

“Hey, Esra.” A firm hand on her arm and a steady shake brought her back as the labourer refocused on Krem at her side. She was halfway out of her chair, hands balled into fists and her mug on the floor, her face flushed. 

The Tevinter mercenary looked confused and concerned as she slowly pulled her arm from his grip and ran a hand through her hair. Everyone was staring, her ears were ringing and her head ached. “I should get back to work Krem. That story though, I’ll remember it for next time. Fighting those bandits in the mine then finding out you’d all been set up? It must have been crazy. Have a good night.” Clearing her throat slightly, refusing to meet his now narrowed gaze, she turned to leave the tavern. 

Krem searched the room and leaned back in his chair with one foot cocked up onto one knee. Bull had told him what Varric had discovered about the owner of the lost armour he had brought back from Haven. It came as little surprise now that any mention of Loghain was a complete off lever for the woman. He would have to let both men know when they returned from their hunt, before the triggers of Skyhold unravelled the woman more than they already were. It couldn’t be much longer, she’d been here just over a month and appeared half dead regardless of her reassurances.


	17. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After at least a week of not sleeping, people around Esra have passed just noticing and are putting their feet down. The apothecary offers up a sleeping draught to aid her with a warning it isn't foolproof. It keeps her asleep but she quickly learns it doesn't stop the nightmares and the frustration on top of exhaustion has her on a narrow ledge with rock bottom below it.

“Sherice, she’s got to take some time off. She’s been helpful as hell, no one’s denying it, but just look at her. Pale as a sheet, she jumps at every little sound. You can tell she ain’t sleeping. She hasn’t had a day to herself since Haven and it’s been a month and a half. We’re starting construction on the Inquisitor’s new Templar styled tower improvements next week. Make her take a few days and come back for that project.” Gannon folded his arms over his chest with a scowl made fierce by a scar along his jawline. Amsel nodded in quiet agreement, his own expression troubled. 

The Foreman rubbed a hand over his face with a strained sound that could only be identified as being between a sigh and a groan. He’d noticed of course, he’d kept her on the ground and hoped she’d stop lying about her health eventually. “I honestly don’t think she realises. It isn’t like we’ve got an abundance of mirrors. She’s been saying it so long I think she believes it.”

Amsel winced slightly, “How could anyone look that bad and not feel the same?”

Sherice gave him a tired look, “Didn’t say she didn’t feel the same. Just that she doesn’t think it’s as bad as it is. I’ll talk t’ her and see. She’s not going t’ like it, but she doesn’t have t’. I’ve got t’ keep her from getting herself killed on a construction site.”

“Esra.” Sherice stood a few feet away when he said her name, frowning when she jolted and fumbled the rock she was holding. “Don’t break your foot.” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to respond. “Put it down and follow me. When’s the last time you had a full night’s sleep?” 

If she was going to be honest, she didn’t remember. She hadn’t been honest lately though, hoping to tough this out until it passed as it always did. The nightmares had only gotten stronger after overhearing those men in the tavern. Each of their faces had superimposed themselves grinning on the bodies of men who turned and walked away with a wave of Loghain’s arm. Her extended silence must have spoken for itself because Sherice frowned impressively, “Alright, we had an agreement, kid. Don’t give me this ‘I’m fine, Foreman’ bullshit either. I’ve let it go till now but everyone can see you’re not okay.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before, Sherice. I know my limits.” Humiliated pride started to rear its head, prodding her out of her shock but also putting her on the defensive as they made their way into the halls of Skyhold again.

“Let me make one thing clearer t’ you here. No one has dealt with anything like this before. Your problems? Maybe true. Not in these conditions.” He shook his head firmly, leading her past the stairwell to the kitchens and into Josephine’s office. The Antivan looked up, slightly startled by the quiet tension of the conversation being held. Sherice stopped and pointed a finger at her, “Your limits don’t apply here. You said it yourself t’ several people, you’ve lived quiet for years. You have no experience handling whatever it is you’ve got going on in situations like this and it’s getting obvious. M’Lady, do you happen to have a mirror?” He turned to Josephine now, his tone diminishing to a certain reverence that all seemed to give the elegant noblewoman. 

It took only a second for Lady Montilyet to recognise what was happening before her, her brows raising slightly before she nodded and stood with a small smile. “I believe I may have something here, we’ve been receiving small gifts from a few noble houses who seem to think we are the right horse to bet on in this race.” Casually she approached a large chest under a window to her left, bending to search through it. When she rose, she had a small but ornate handheld mirror wrapped in expensive linen which she handed to Sherice.

“Go on.” The stern bite was back in his voice as he pressed the mirror into her hands. Esra felt like she was fast losing any control of the situation, if she had any to begin with, glancing back and forth between Sherice’s brusque annoyance and Josephine’s nearly pitying sympathetic smile. 

Esra’s shoulders slumped as thoughts raced through her head but never made it to verbal existence. She knew she looked awful, between the scars and the dark circles she imagined she had, she probably scared small children. Knowing it, didn’t prepare her for what she thought as she let her eyes fall to the glass in defeat. She looked like she’d caught the damn Blight. She was so pale her skin was nearly grey and waxy, tight across the bones in her cheeks, the circles under her eyes far more pronounced than she had expected and sunken slightly. Add in those scars, she could double as a ghoul if her eyes had a film over them. She swallowed hard and made to hand the mirror back, “I’m going to assume this means I’m out of work.”

The Dwarf deflated, shaking his head as he relaxed, “No. But take the rest of the week, Esra. Maker’s balls, get some sleep. Go t’ Adan or whoever and get a draught of some sort if you need t’. Gannon and Amsel say that construction on the Inquisitor’s new tower plans start next week, I want you fit t’ help on that.”

A week with nothing to do but dwell on the past and her nightmares. She hadn’t considered getting something from the apothecary to calm her sleep, however, it was… an idea to say the least. Had Keeper Lanaya suspected this would happen? That trying to keep her stability while surrounded by chaos would be beyond her abilities? Esra wouldn’t put it past the sly Dalish elf to set her up for failure to force her to find other ways to deal with what was inside her head and soul. 

Silently Esra turned and walked away from them both, missing the deep frown on Sherice’s face as he stared after her in frustration with one hand on the back of his neck. She felt numb and empty again as she wandered through the grounds. Logic told her it was simply the exhaustion but she felt like melting into the ground, as though it pulled at her. 

No, she would prove them wrong. A scowl curved one corner of her lips down as she watched people pass through the gate house covering the bridge into Skyhold. She could do this her way, use these days off to get everything back under control and they would have to accept that she didn’t want to talk about what had happened. It was a decade in the past, she just wanted to get on with her life without strangers digging it all up.

Straightening her shoulders, she decided the first step was getting some decent damned sleep. Adan, then. He’d been clear he was an apothecary, not a healer, when he had helped her upon her arrival at Haven, perhaps he’d be willing to put something together. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, her step reviving with a plan to follow, Esra descended the stairs into the lower courtyard and followed the path past the surgeon’s tents toward the stables. There were a meagre few merchant stands popping up along the way and she figured it wouldn’t be a bad place to search for him first. He had to get supplies somewhere. 

“They hired someone else after Haven, she spends most of her time in the garden.” Adan didn’t even look her way as he took a package from a very Orlesian woman at the stall, handing over the coin for it. “Elan Ve’mal, she’s highly recommended.” Finally, he turned and paused, an eyebrow arching as he simply looked her over and then sighed. “I’ve been seeing more and more people like you lately. Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

Mostly they walked in silence, until Esra couldn’t anymore. “So, there’s a lot of people who can’t sleep? I suppose I can imagine, everyone’s been through a lot lately.”

The look Adan gave her was nothing short of severe, “You’ve already heard it before so I’m not going to berate you. You’ll figure it out in time, I’m sure. However, don’t treat me like a fool. Veterans in Ferelden don’t have as high a rate of stress reactions to trauma as in places like Seheron but I’ve seen it enough. I’m not sure who is more stubborn, soldiers or Orlesian noblewomen.”

Even as he shook his head, his comment made her snort. “The latter I’m sure.” They passed through the main hall and took a left past Gatsi who nodded to them and even stepped back slightly to hold the door open for the pair to pass. The small garden had been improved upon already but it hadn’t required much construction. There was a sprawling patch of rare herbs and the well had been repaired and then covered to make sure no one fell in, aside from that it was left to flourish wild. Elan Ve’mal was an elven woman who stood talking to the Chantry mother, Giselle. 

A hand landed on her arm as she stepped forward towards the new apothecary. “Look. I know you’re getting advice everywhere, especially when you haven’t asked for it. From experience though, I think you would benefit from reminding yourself how strong you are. Not just knowing it. Seeing it. Feeling it again. It’s up to you to decide the best way to do that. Best of luck, I would hate to see you end up like some others I’ve witnessed. You’ve got a brain unlike half the people in Ferelden.” With a curt nod, he ignored the startled look on her face before leaving the garden.

“He likes you. Speaks well of your character. What can I help you with today?” Piercing green eyes watched Esra’s slow walk up to her, narrow arms folding over the elf’s chest. 

Perhaps it was just a response to meeting so many commanding people after so long without anyone to take orders from but nearly everyone she had met in Skyhold so far who was in a leadership position threw her off and made her feel like an awkward recruit again. Idly she rubbed the back of her neck, “Sherice said… suggested, really, that I should see about getting something to help me sleep. It’s been… tough to get through a whole night since Haven.”

The woman’s face relaxed with a faint smile as she nodded, “Yes, several people a day come asking for similar draughts. I have some readily available since there’s been such a demand. They’re strong, unless you fight them you should stay asleep for eight to twelve hours. I must order that you stay away from any sort of scaffolding while you use it. Wait here.”

It took only a few minutes for the herbalist to return with a small box. “There’s a week of vials in here. Only take one at a time, even if it seems like they aren’t working or you end up waking up halfway through the night. You will make yourself sick. A week should let us know if it’s going to work or if I need to try something else. Take care of yourself.”

That night Esra sat at the tiny desk in her shared quarters, the small wash basin resting on the floor beneath it. The box with her vials sat on its surface, unmoving beneath her gaze. Her right hand fisted in her hair, both elbows resting on the aged table top, and her legs both bobbed in agitation.

“You work too hard. Still. It’s okay to take a break, you know.”

“It’s not that ea- “

“So, you’ve been saying on repeat for years.”

“You make me sound like a fool.”

“You’d be in good company then. I’m one too or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Esra gave a single soft laugh distractedly, glancing toward her bunk where the armour was hidden beneath the wooden framing of the cot. 

“Melli, get some rest. I’ve kept you up long enough, we have to save the world tomorrow after all.” A warm hand gripped her shoulder familiarly but when she slowly glanced back, she already knew it would be to see an empty space. The room wavered as her eyes burned suddenly, her smile wobbling as she tried to swallow back the painful rush of affection. 

A single cold tear slid down her cheek as she sat back and lifted the first vial. The thick liquid inside was an odd orange tone that hardly looked appealing. She sniffed a few times and let out a heavy breath as she tried to let what she felt go, tipping the glass back to down its contents. Rising slowly, she lay down on her cot for the first time in a week, her back aching in protest and her knees pulled up close to her stomach. She didn’t recall falling asleep, only that it happened swiftly.

The next day, Inquisitor Lavellan returned with Sera, Blackwall, and Solas. The elf looked affronted and Lavellan had rather clearly placed herself between him and the grinning pair of troublemakers walking with them. The woman rolled her eyes as her three companions wandered off in separate directions, throwing her hands up in the air before following Sera toward the tavern. The Inquisitor was leaning heavily on Varric with a large yawn as they both perched at the bar, “I swear, I was more worried Solas was going to throw them through a rift. I’d rather fight more shambling corpses or rampaging abominations than try to stop Sera and Blackwall from pushing the expert mage’s buttons. Isn’t Sera terrified of magic? Why would she annoy Solas of all people then…? I’ll never understand.” Varric was shaking his head and laughing as one had patted the exhausted rogue on the shoulder. 

Esra’s limp was stiffer than normal but she followed the wall towards Krem as he gestured for her with a grin. “Morning, Krem. I take it the Inquisitor’s venture was eventful.” She pulled an empty chair over to sit in his corner with him, rubbing at her temple where a mild headache persisted.

“Afternoon, actually. You could say that, from what I overheard, Sera and Blackwall were teasing Solas relentlessly the entire time they were out. You’re looking spry today for a corpse.” He rose to meet Cabot halfway as the dwarf brought them two drinks, paying for both before Esra could get her hand into her pocket. 

“If you use lines like that on all the ladies you won’t have much luck. Though I suppose corpse is an upgrade for me. Yesterday I would have said ghoul.” Rubbing at her eyes, she accepted the drink with a small smirk, “The apothecary gave me something to sleep. I suppose this means it worked.”

He lifted the mug to toast her, grinning in return, “I suppose it does mean that. Let me be the first to say that I’m glad you found something that works. Couple people here seem to like you and they were worried even though they’ve been busy.”

“How was Haven? I haven’t really seen the Chargers since you came back.”

The expression on his face grew strained as he paused in raising his flagon for another drink, he cleared his throat and scratched at the corner of his eyebrow. “It’s gone. You can see half of the chantry above the snow and a bit of the log fortifications managed to survive if they took the avalanche at the right angle… but anything made of wood or mortar got crushed or swept away. We recovered some of the bodies but judging by the list Leliana and Cullen put together, it wasn’t everyone. It isn’t a task I would wish for anyone to have to do but at least it was done. Those people deserved something more than laying frozen on a battlefield.”

“You’re a good man, Krem. You and the Chargers. You’re appreciated.” He nodded to her as she gave him a pointed glance and a faint smile. 

“Thanks. You’re not bad yourself, you know. Feel free to talk to any of the Chargers, they’ll welcome you. We’re probably going to use the sparring ring later tonight if you want to hop in and embarrass us.” 

Esra grinned for a moment and then shook her head after taking a drink. “Thanks, but I’m just here to put big stone bricks up. I might watch. Maybe laugh if you’re that interested in personal humiliation.”

Krem coughed as he choked on the next drink he’d been taking, laughing as his throat cleared, “Alright, you’ve got me there. Sounds like a plan.”

She hadn’t expected the day off to plan itself instead of sitting staring at walls while falling down a mental rabbit hole. It was a nice change to sit outside and watch the group toss jibes at each other while they fought. Dalish was the easiest to frustrate, all you had to do was tell her that her staff wasn’t held right. “It’s a bow! I’m not supposed to fight like this with a bow!” It was uncomfortably familiar and part of her wanted to escape but she was having enough fun that it kept her distracted. She sat on the ground with her back against the stone at the base of the stairs to the main hall, a drink in one hand, and occasionally joined the banter but mostly watched. 

As night fell it became a bit too dangerous to swing at people in the dim light and they retreated into the tavern, laughing with each other. Esra decided to head up to her room instead, relieved to get some sleep again rather than stay up even later. Hopefully it worked just as it had the night before. She took the little orange vial without a second thought and changed into more comfortable clothes before laying down.

Shaking woke her, specifically someone holding her shoulders and deliberately shaking her. This didn’t immediately register to her heavily asleep brain but rather became apparent a few seconds later as she stared down at the scared face of one of her bunk mates who had his hands displayed to show he was unarmed. She had him pinned on the floor, his lip bloodied and her forearm applying pressure to his throat. The other three refugees in the room were rising now, anxiety on every face. Esra released him like a hot coal and scrambled back, a faint tremor building in her muscles. “You were having a nightmare again, thrashing, but it seemed like you couldn’t wake with what you’ve been taking.” He rasped quietly, sitting up to rub his throat before waving the others back to their beds. 

A nightmare? She couldn’t recall anything but the cold sweat dripping down her neck and the roiling nausea backed up his words. Esra scrubbed both hands over her face, picking herself off the ground. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m going to go… walk. Or something. Are you okay?” She was already mostly out of the door before she remembered to turn around and ask, though she kept her eyes on the stone wall a foot to his left. 

“I’m good.” And he was, his brother had nightmares from the Battle of Denerim and had once broken the bone in his cheek when he had woken him. He should have known to wake her from a distance but she’d still shown some control. He was okay. 

Something told her to stay off the walls today, she was just too distracted. By the curve of the moon it seemed early still, maybe two or three hours after midnight. The cold bit into her bones swiftly without a jacket and the breeze stung, smelling sharply of ice. It cleared her head quickly as she wandered the grounds but that only replaced the shaky sickness with a growing frustration and anger. Eventually, she just sat down on the steps looking out over the upper courtyard with her clenched hands propping her chin up off her knees. 

“Come on. I can’t sleep either.” A heavy step came down the stairs from above her but as he spoke she didn’t need to turn around. It was Commander Cullen, still in full armour. He continued past her toward the sparring ring, shadows under his own eyes and a faint glistening on his forehead. He waved a mailed hand when he noticed she wasn’t following and she hesitated but rose and followed him to the centre of the yard. She pulled herself up to perch on the fence but he only smiled and tossed her one of the sparring sticks. If she hadn’t caught it, the damn thing would’ve hit her in the face.

“Don’t start with the excuses. Esra, that isn’t a sword and no one is watching. Everyone is asleep. You’re already here and it’s in your hand. You could drop it and walk away but you need to let it out. It’s just going to build like pressure behind a damn, that’s why you put spillways in the wall. To let it go safely in small amounts.” He stepped back and gestured at the dummy. Esra could taste acid as she looked at it, her heart shuddering in her chest as her hand cramped with the force of her grip on the wooden handle.

Why wasn’t she moving? By the Maker all she wanted was something to lash out at, to break. To scream at about how unfair, it was that she had lost everything the way she had and still handle to continue. How ridiculous it was that people wanted her to just be normal and get over it when she still couldn’t say their names out loud or it would finally be real. Cullen startled her by folding his arms with a patient expression, “Put a face to it if it helps.”

“It’s a couple inches too short and needs a heavy brow that makes him look like a cave troll.” The bland rasp made Cullen laugh and was vague enough for her own comfort. “Do they have something bigger than this? I’m used to a different balance.” She glanced around but Cullen moved to a barrel by the gate and handed her an approximation of a great sword. The weight was off since it was wood, not metal, yet the feeling was closer than that twig they used for a longsword. 

Esra’s stance widened from muscle memory, holding the hilt with two hands at waist level as she got used to the length again, unsurprised that it came back so easily. Such a weapon demanded your full body be a part of its movement, you had to throw in everything without hedging your bets or thinking twice. It was gloriously simple, a mindset where everything made sense. 

Taking a heavy breath, she decided and took a few steps before she could talk herself out of it again. Mid step with her right leg still farther back, the sword point dropped toward her right hip as it followed her main hand to bring the hilt to her side in preparation. The muscle in her back objected strenuously past layers of scar tissue but as her right foot pivoted forward and her torso tightened she levered the practice blade past her shoulder to rise even with her face. It slashed viciously down from the dummy's left shoulder to its right hip, making it rock heavily on its stand. Already she was taking another step in to maintain her balance, her body pulling the sword back across the stomach of the battered old dummy from its right to its left with a tight rotation of her shoulders. 

That three seconds was all she needed to utterly lose control of what she held back every day. No dummy stood before her, something faceless with too many names to pin one down to it took its place. Grey flashed in her vision as she struck it over and over, disregarding the pain in her back and hip or the way her arms protested a level of exertion she hadn’t reached in several years. Breath tore like blades through her throat in the cold night, but a rage of pain and frustration kept her blood hot while desperation kept her movements swift. Without armour to weigh her down her swings and stabs were a little wilder than normal, her pulse pounding in her ears until it was the only thing she could hear over her harsh breathing. 

Cullen stood back with a frown, folding his arms over his chest while he kept a careful eye on the woman. It was odd, seeing it from this perspective, since he had a feeling that he had been much like this after Greagoir had sent him away from the Circle Tower to recover in a small Chantry. Esra’s scars had long healed yet she still lived in the moment they had happened, would he have been the same without the structure and assistance of others? Frightening… He kept completely still, the empty-eyed and grim set to her gaunt face making it clear that she was still out of her bearings. Startling her now would be a poor choice. 

After nearly half an hour had passed, her attacks were obviously faltering and her steps not as sure. Exhaustion had to be setting in and she’d worked up a heavy sweat. If she remained in the cold her muscles could lock up from cold and exertion or she could catch ill from the temperatures. Glancing around, he noticed Iron Bull leaning against the corner of the tavern but the large Qunari simply nodded to him, face inscrutable. 

“Esra.”

The voice barely pierced the chaos in her mind but it was enough to stall her next swing. The pain, entirely physical for once, hit her like a wall and made her cough as the wooden sword’s tip hit the ground. Releasing it, she tried to lift a hand to push her hair out of her eyes only to wince as her shoulders refused to give. It felt like live coals had been placed under the skin of her back. Turning towards the fence to lean against it, the first leg she moved tried to crumple.

Esra started to put up a fight as firm arms wrapped around her from behind but her limbs were shaking and for some embarrassing and wholly unknown reason she felt tears on her face. She shook her head, trying to reconnect with what was happening around her outside of her weary daze, only for her legs to give out entirely. Cullen nudged her into position leaning against his chest and held her up, his eyes restlessly watching windows and doors as one hand came to a rest on her hair. She dissolved, the tears coming so hard that she nearly retched. The Commander’s jaw tightened, knowing there was not much else he could do but keep her steady and make sure she knew she wasn’t alone. He’d been there, where the screams couldn’t come out because when you tried your body tightened so much that you couldn’t breath and your eyes turned red from the pressure under your skin. 

Maker… Oh, Maker, he had been there before and he wished she hadn’t.


	18. A Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the course of a week Esra has begun to catch up on her sleep but a string of incidents have her avoiding nearly everyone. Dagna has become a bit of a safe haven because of her charming innocence and the two fast become friends although Esra still hangs back away from admitting it. Alistair shows up at Skyhold for a brief visit as innocuously as he can only to run into a ghost that has eluded him for a decade.

“Iron Bull, what can I help you with?” Commander Cullen sat back from his desk and rose to approach the Qunari as Bull entered the office, extending a hand to take his. 

Bull clasped the ex-Templar in a firm shake, careful to make sure that his horns didn’t remove the top of the door frame as he entered. “Varric and I haven’t seen Esra in a few days. I was wondering if you had.”

He sighed and shook his head with half his mouth twisting in a frown. “She’s avoiding me too. I thought I’d give it another couple of days since Sherice wants her back to work I believe the day after tomorrow from what Josephine said. If she shows up to that I’ll be less concerned, if not was considering asking Cole to help me track her down.”

Cullen settled to sit on the edge of the desk, pressing a hand over his eyes for a moment, “I keep telling myself she’s an adult and can handle herself. I’ve got the dregs of the Mage-Templar war, the war with Corypheus and all of his corrupted minions, the Civil War in Orlais, and security for our troops and visitors on my plate too.”

“If we can’t help those who sacrifice for us, do we have a right to be making the decisions for the world?” Bull’s head leaned forward slightly as he met the Commander eye to eye. “We can’t save all of them but she’s right there in reach. We have a responsibility to try.”

The man chuckled weakly, “I never said I wasn’t going to. Just that I’m worried about making it a distraction. It’s a fine line for all of us to walk considering how much the Inquisition and the Inquisitor herself count on us. Oh, speaking of distractions, I want to request the Chargers for a guest. They’re the most likely to remain capable and impartial. After the fiasco at Redcliffe with the Venatori unseating the Arl, King Alistair has decided to come see the Inquisition face to face and discuss how much of a problem the Venatori will be. Remove middle party interference, a wise choice, however coming alone was not. I would appreciate it if you could have them ride out and meet him to escort him the rest of the way to Skyhold. Ambassador Montilyet is having palpitations trying to get suitable accommodations prepared on such short notice.”

The Bull’s eyebrows climbed the longer the Commander spoke. “Well, it sounds like something he’d do from all the reports I’ve read on his unique personality. How will we find him?”

“Leliana gave him a stern talking to and told him to stay north, take the Imperial Highway around Lake Calenhad and stop at Gherlen’s Pass. He ventured through the area with his wife during the Fifth Blight so it will be somewhat familiar territory for him. I would say follow the road north and you’ll probably find him around Sulcher’s Pass by then.” 

“Not far then, I’ll go get Krem and the others ready and send them out. The last thing we need is the last King Theirin getting himself killed and the Hero of Ferelden angry with us.” Bull waved a hand with an amused shake of his head, turning to head back out of the office. 

Esra winced as she set the crate she was carrying on the stone railing which descended into the main work space in Undercroft. Dagna beamed like a damn ray of sunshine as she hurried over to help, “Oh, finally! My supplies came in for my new masterwork experiment. Thank you so much, I can carry it from there. I don’t even know where I’m going to put it yet.” Before she could even straighten her stance, Esra found the box removed from her hands. 

“Masterwork? I have this strange feeling that when you say words I think I should know, you probably mean something else entirely.” The woman smiled faintly as she settled onto the stairs, leaning her aching back against the chilled stone. 

The dwarf’s eyes brightened as she set her items down on top of the contraption she normally used to create armour, “Yes. No. Well, maybe… I mean, it’s like this. Harritt makes amazing weapons and armour here but what I do as an Arcanist is use rarities and enchantments to make it just a bit… more. A sword edge that burns when it cuts or a breastplate that can potentially repel magical or long range attacks. That’s a masterwork, something so exceptional it’s unique. Created for a purpose and with a lot of effort and study. Mages can’t really work with masterworks because of the lyrium involved in runecrafting, of course they can use the finished product, but while the elements involved in making the masterwork are exposed, it sort of drives them mad. That’s where I come in! Being resistant to lyrium and all that.”

“I’ve seen things like that before. It’s always a wonder to watch what they’ll do. Oh! Did you finally get a chance to talk to Sera? I saw she came back a few days ago.” The discussion on masterworks caused a small twinge in her chest as she thought of Maric’s blade. Thank Andraste and the Maker that Alistair had been able to recover it. She was pleasantly surprised when thinking about it didn’t make her instantly want to retch but decided she didn’t want to test her new tolerance further and it was easy enough to change the subject.

Dagna laughed, one foot shuffling across the stone, “I ran into her in the tavern the day she got back. Oh, you were so right Esra. She’s hilarious! And so confident. She’s been playing pranks on everyone, did you know? She told me about a few. I really like this idea of taking the gumption out of Corphyface by saying his name wrong on purpose.” The Dwarf blushed slightly looking around as if she half expected Corypheus to appear on the spot to avenge the insult to his name. Sometimes Esra forgot how young the woman was until she did something that made her seem like a schoolgirl being naughty for the first time because her friends were always flaunting the rules.

Come to think of it nearly everyone in a leadership role in the Inquisition would have been someone a parent would consider a ‘bad influence’. 

Esra smirked and shook her head, “Well I’m glad it sounds like you two hit it off pretty well. I’m unexpectedly grateful that I’m too far down the Inquisitorial ladder to be pranked.” 

“It’s so amazing to have friends here. It was sort of the last thing I expected when I accepted the job. I’ve always been the odd one out but I love what I do so much it’s been easy to ignore. Now I’ve got Sera and you! Oh, if you weren’t about to get back to work I would invite you to hang out with us… but the offer is there if you ever have time.” Dagna smiled brightly enough that it made Esra’s cheeks ache because Dagna’s simply had to, bouncing up onto her toes once before rocking back onto her heels. 

“We’ll… see, okay? There’s a lot going on right now. Thank you, though, Dagna.” She gingerly picked herself up as she responded, straightening slowly with a hand on the railing to keep her balanced. “I’ll let you get back to work, I should get some rest before going back myself. Pulled a muscle I think.”

Dagna cheerfully returned her parting wave and Esra turned to made her way up the stairs back into the throne room. Tonight’s dose would be the last of the vials that Elan had given her to aid her sleep. So far, every night had been uneventful aside from the second. Esra had attempted to move out into a solitary room along the thick stone walls that still had most of its ceiling but the refugees she bunked with had insisted she remain. It had been humbling to say the least and they’d been casual each day informing her that if she did toss it was minimal in comparison. As… uncanny as it felt to have people watching her sleep, it was a relief to know that her mind had calmed down somewhat and that someone cared enough to step in if she were trapped in some nightmare. 

With that in mind and a persistent throb through the muscles in her back that spread around her rib cage, Esra pulled her coat tighter and wandered down the hall toward the door into the garden. Elan Ve’mal saw her coming and gave a satisfied nod as the distance closed between the two, “You look healthier already. Small changes but good ones. I take it that draught did what it was meant to?”

“To a point. There was… an incident one night where I was apparently having violent nightmares but the other refugees woke me up since I couldn’t. Absolutely no memory of it and there haven’t been any problems the other nights.” Esra shrugged with her far less painful right shoulder. “I hope it isn’t too much to ask for something for muscle pain? I’m pretty sure I pulled something.” 

Elan arched one thin eyebrow, both listening and watching intently. “Is this something I should examine a bit closer to ensure that nothing has been overly damaged?”

Esra shook her head, “I’ve broken and torn things before. I just overdid it and pulled something. Maybe a few things. I’ll probably be stiff and sore for a while. Something to help when I go back to work would be appreciated, I can pay for it. I have a little bit.”

The elf held up a hand, “I am here as a healer, not a merchant peddling health and life. Just remember you can come here if it gets worse but I will insist upon examining it to determine how bad the injury is.” Stepping away she led the way to a small room off the garden’s yard. Behind the door to the left she had a set of shelves with assorted ingredients and on the back wall was an apothecary table. To the right was more shelving groaning with pre-made vials and bottles labelled in neat script.

It took less than a minute for her to pick out the jar she wanted, handing it over. “If you can’t reach and you’re too stubborn to ask for help then put some on a rag and try it that way. It’ll need to coat the skin over the damaged area.”

“Thank you, again. What you do means a great deal even though it’s likely annoying to work with so many stubborn and prideful fools such as I.” 

Elan smiled faintly at Esra and firmly shook her hand. “The stubborn ones are always the ones with good heads on their shoulders. It makes it easier to put up with. Do be careful though, especially when you go back to work. Take these too instead of coming back tomorrow, make sure you’re not drowsy or feeling vertigo before you climb scaffolding.” Carefully she took down several vials more of the orange sleeping aid for Esra to leave with as well.

“Well, I don’t know about you, ladies and gentlemen, but I need a nap.” Dawn was rising over Skyhold as the rather bedraggled Chargers climbed its steps to the upper courtyard. Dalish was limping and Grim had a bandage around his head, even Krem and Rocky bore some cuts and bruises. Skinner and Stitches seemed to have evaded most of the trouble but moved stiffly. 

A few labourers were already winding their way around the courtyard but they were used to the Chargers coming and going on missions. Krem clapped a hand onto the shoulder of the man next to him who had spoken, “You owe us drinks before anyone can get a nap.” 

Alistair grinned sheepishly, running a dirt stained hand through his hair, “Right, I probably could have planned this better. Point well beyond made. I am quite prepared to get us all drinks.” He yawned heavily as he looked around, gesturing with one hand. “Just point me in the right direction…”

Esra couldn’t breathe but she wanted to beat the unholy shit out of something at the same time. Maker’s breath he still looked like Cailan’s mirror if the man had ever gotten old enough to start showing grey at the temples. The instant their eyes met across the courtyard confusion flashed across his face followed swiftly by shock and a hand rose. Turning away wasn’t an option, he’d follow her until he found out why. The hesitation lasted long enough that Krem began glancing back and forth between them and Alistair took a breath to speak.

The woman winced and broke from her stillness to hurry across the empty grounds. Krem glanced at the suddenly solemn King in his plain clothes and arched a brow, “We’ll… go ahead and get started without you. Take whatever time you need.” The Chief was really going to want to hear this one. The King of Ferelden looked like he’d seen a ghost. Krem shooed his Chargers into the tavern, already looking around for the Iron Bull in his usual haunt past the staircase.

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat as Esra stopped a few feet away. “This close its sort of impossible to mistake. Wow, I mean… Just… I honestly thought you were dead. We haven’t finished identifying the bodies at Ostagar but… damn.” For a moment, he fell silent and they just stared at each other awkwardly. “Lieutenant. I guess I’m not the only one left alive from the war table…”   
What the hell was she supposed to say? He and Cailan hadn’t been close but they were still blood. She’d only met Alistair herself a few times, all of them at Ostagar and the small skirmishes that had led up to it where he had helped them while Duncan searched for recruits. “I’m not a lieutenant here, Your Majesty.”

He managed a weak smile and stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Melisande, you’ve known me a lot longer than most. No title please, it gets a little too hefty anyway. Sometimes I like taking it off. It’s um…” Alistair paused as he realised that the yard had begun to fill with more people, several of whom were noticing them. “Let’s walk. Anywhere. Lots of point and whispering going on. I’ll apologise to the Ambassador later, profusely probably, and she’ll act irreparably devastated and wriggle all sorts of trade bargains and the like out of me because I can’t stand upset women and she knows it.”   
One arm wrapped around her shoulders from behind to lead her toward the stairs outside of the tavern which rose to the ramparts. The quiet was broken only the sounds of construction being prepared for work as soon as the sun rose high enough to climb the scaffolds safely. 

“Alistair, you haven’t changed much I see. Congratulations on your marriage. I… sent a gift. Unsigned.” She folded her arms across her chest as they reached the top of the walls, squinting slightly against the glare of early light on pristine snow. 

A wide grin split across his face finally, “That, was you? Well… thank you. It was unexpected to say the least but it helped me get to know more about Cailan than I ever thought to. Sort of a bittersweet feeling.” He sighed and let his arm drop before turning to face her, “Obviously, a lot has been going on and I thought it would be more than clear that survivors were welcome and would be aided by the throne. Melisande… do I get even the vaguest explanation?”

Muscle twitched sharply along her jaw as she scratched at one temple and stared across the snow. Her head tilted and Esra chewed on her lower lip in thought while rocking her weight slightly to her right leg. “I couldn’t do it. Everywhere I go, everything I do… it’s all tainted by that damned night. I didn’t think then that I would be any help, especially with my injuries, and I still don’t think so. I didn’t really survive Ostagar, Alistair, not most days. I’m still trying to get away from it, I’m still there like time bloody stopped even though I know it hasn’t.” A bitter smile crossed her face as she risked a glance at his face, “Seems like you have those moments too, I know that look in your eye. I wish I could push it away half as well as you’ve managed.”

“I’ll give you that much.” There was an angry darkness in his voice but it railed at the past, not at her. “And I can’t blame you. Not that I ever could no matter what you told me. Was this all from Ostagar then?” 

He nodded his head toward her own scars and she lifted a hand to trail her fingers across the peach fuzz severed by twisted greyed skin. “That and more. Alistair… thank you for going back there. What you did for him, even though you didn’t truly know him, I wish I could have done half as much.”

A strong hand took hers and squeezed, “You two were more than friends. You did everything you possibly could, I can’t imagine it any other way. Andraste’s knickers, he called you Melli and sought your council or company on everything. I saw him every night sitting with your men. You were his family when he had not much. The world would have ended before you gave anything less than your entire heart and soul to keep him safe.” 

It took a moment for her eyes to focus past the blurriness that welled but she swallowed the emotion back down and didn’t pull her hand away, “Maker… Alistair I can’t do this right now. Let’s just get drinks and you can tell me about your wife. Saviour of Ferelden, Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, that’s quite a woman but all I’ve heard is gossip.”

This Theirin had a different smile than Cailan, it carried more age and sadness than the Sunshine King had ever experienced. “I have so many tales you’ll pay the bartender to knock me out to make me stop. Come on. I’m not him but you were once family to Maric’s son and a friend to me. Once so, always so.”

“I swear, she could have charmed the entire Landsmeet out of title and home. Held that little hand out and they’d just hand the keys over. It was priceless! Underhanded compliments abounded! I don’t think I’ve ever seen Arl Eamon try so hard not to grin like a fool. Of course, right after that she told me I was to fight Loghain in her stead and right after THAT she told all of Ferelden she was going to marry me. I mean, I had heard of women proposing to men before though rarely, but she sort of just skipped that part and was all ‘by the way, Lords and Ladies of Ferelden, get over it’!” Alistair doubled over the bar laughing and wiping a tear from his red cheek as Cabot cautiously shifted the King’s cup a bit to protect it from being knocked over. 

Esra snickered, leaning her elbow onto the wood as she turned slightly towards him, “You certainly know how to get yourself in a tangle Alistair. She’s one to keep you on your feet, it’s good that she can outwit you since I doubt anyone could match your level of energy.” 

“I had to see for myself when I heard that Alistair had stood Josie up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman so animated.” Leliana slipped into a chair next to Iron Bull and Varric where they sat hidden mostly by the staircase and fireplace in the centre of the room. 

Varric shook his head and peered past the obstacle for another glance, then sat back and shrugged, “I’m just astounded she’s smiling and her face hasn’t cracked. Astounded and grateful.”

Iron Bull shook his head and took a deep swig from his drink, “I think as soon as he walks away to go talk to Josie, she’s going to have a meltdown. She’ll realise that there’s no way she can hide it any more even if she doesn’t know the armour was discovered. Too many people will be asking why she is best buddies with the King.”

The rogue sighed and pulled Bianca into his lap to polish the runes carved into her wood, “We knew this was coming. This is the crossroads for her, whether she decides to overcome or collapse. If the latter, she has the Inquisition to pick her up, give her a stern talking to, and point her back in the right direction.”

Leliana laughed, “That’s one way of putting it.”


	19. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work has begun on the main tower at Skyhold with the new Templar additions. Less than a week in, the weather is causing some problems on construction, exacerbated by the condition of some of the more ancient stones. Varric and Bull stage an intervention that seems to bear some fruit until Esra has her first run in with Loghain's supporters in the Inquisition's ranks.

“Well, Melisande, stay in touch. Please. It would mean a great deal. Also, your family title and holdings are still in my possession, I will give them back to you when you return. There’s a position in the Guard if you want it too.” Alistair gave her shoulder a squeeze with one hand, appearing to have something additional to say but deciding not to. “You will always have a place with my household.” 

Esra rubbed the back of her neck as she watched the Warden walk away across the court yard to enter the main hall. Josephine would be in utter shock at his ragged peasant clothing and dirt stains. Part of her wished she could see it and the Antivan’s effortless response but she was already late.

Upon her arrival to the base of the central watchtower, several groups of labourers already worked upon preparing large piles of supplies. Clean stone fresh from nearby quarries lay stacked twice the height of a man in pyramids so that they were stable to be climbed and rope dangled from growing levels of scaffolding to lift blocks. The entire area smelled wonderfully of cut wood that was being carried in under Sherice’s curt direction. 

Amsel climbed the heights to their left and Gannon the right. Each carefully placed additions to the scaffolding and secured them to the worn remnants that would soon be remade strong and proud again. The very land seemed to hold its breath as though anxious to stand tall above the surrounding mountains. It would take weeks to complete the improvements to the structure and then Josephine and Vivienne had compiled a rather clear view of how to decorate it. 

With a faint wince, she rubbed at her callused fingers and then gripped the rungs of the nearest bit of scaffolding and hoisted herself up the ladder. Perhaps the week off had been helpful, the joints of her hands didn’t ache as much as she had expected. It was still daunting to climb so high and by the fourth or fifth level platform she needed to stop and catch her breath, hands throbbing. Amsel dropped down next to her with a slide down the sides of the ladder. “Good to see you. Still need to eat more but you look a bit more awake.” 

The gruff voice made her chuckle as she glanced over her shoulder and sat to let her legs dangle off the platform. “Nice to see you too, Marcher. Where should I get started?” 

“Thankfully we talked them into just doing repairs and the additions instead of rebuilding half of this monstrosity. I’ll put you in charge on some of the higher work crews. More than some I can trust that you’ll keep these blockheads safe. They don’t seem to respect the height they’re at.” The annoyance was oddly abundant across his features as he looked up to where a faint laugh echoed and some dust crumbled down past where they relaxed. “They’re like show colts at their first race. I wouldn’t mind so much if they kept the hilarity for when their feet are connected to solid ground. Foolishness.”

Esra shook her head and tried to hide her grin, picking herself up carefully. “I’ll get up there quickly then, before they laugh themselves to death.” Nodding to Amsel, she carefully made her way around more workers and up a few more levels. 

A startled sound got her attention and she reached up to catch the man’s heel. Pushing up, despite the groan in her shoulder, the weight suddenly vanished and she popped her head over the edge of the platform with an arched brow and an exasperated twist to her lips. The pair of men present looked sheepish, one tightly gripping the other to help him regain his feet. “There is an edge, in case you hadn’t noticed. Do keep aware of where your feet are.”

The tedious work gave her something to focus on even if it made the damaged muscle in her back shriek. Hefting the stones up eventually became easier when Amsel and Gannon ordered people to lift it up one level at a time instead of tying it off and heaving it from the ground to the top platforms in one go. The fingers of her left hand had gone numb within a few short hours and began spreading up through her wrist. The tingling irritated her more than proving to be an actual hindrance. 

Sherice showed unexpected mirth as they got farther ahead of schedule each day. Alistair departed on the third, refusing a guard from Josephine or Cullen but unable to deny Leliana’s instance that two of her agents lead him. A rumour circulated that she had threatened to send a letter detailing his stubbornness to his wife if he took the trip back to Denerim without aid. 

Before he had left, the King had adamantly stated that he would be given the location of her home or he would seek it out. It was with a sinking feeling that her future was growing increasingly uncertain and much less solitary than she truly wished that she gave him the directions from Keeper Lanaya’s camp. It was impossible to refuse him the way she had attempted to do with the others, whether it was simply his resemblance to Cailan or the unspoken connection they had shared unknowingly for a decade. It troubled her that even one person could legitimately claim to understand what gripped her mind like a demon. She honestly wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Esra was stalked by exhaustion and twitchy nerves even as sleep had been improving, aided by the serum and the heavy labour. It was manageable now, at least enough that those giving orders didn’t consider it as much of a problem. It was harder this day, the fourth of the construction on the additions, with the sky dimmed by heavy clouds. About midday she sent the rest of her team down a few levels and remained to work where she was, her cloak drawn tightly against the bitter chill and warned by the sharp smell of the wind that the weather was shifting. 

Within the hour snow began to fall heavy and wet, clinging to every surface. Sherice, Amsel, and Gannon called a halt to the work and demanded that everyone descend as carefully as possible. Shaking feeling slowly back into her left arm, Esra obeyed. Gusting wind tugged at her clothes as she slid down each ladder and crossed each platform.

“Watch!” The yell came as a shiver passed through the timbers of the scaffolding. Esra swung around to cling to the opposite side of the ladder she was on as debris from the tower’s higher levels gave finally after years of snow and decay. The platform above her acted as a shield but a quick glance down showed that not all still making their way down had been as fortunate. Several men and women were shielding their heads with their arms, cries of pain torn away by another gust of wind even as they were made. 

Without a thought, she slipped back around and ran across the new platform, the fourth level from the ground, one hand gripping the next ladder railing as she leapt down it and slid to the third. A woman had stumbled onto that particular platform, smacked in the head with a shingle on her way down the ladder herself. Throwing herself wide, Esra wrapped her arm through the final rung on the ladder and caught the woman’s flailing arm as she fell over the edge without her balance. The edge of the platform sent searing pain through her ribs with the weight added to her own and her arm felt like lightning all the way to her shoulder. It was enough to make her eyes go dark for a moment and she clenched them tightly shut, praying her numbed left hand would hold well enough. A breath later Amsel was there, desperately lifting them enough to grab the woman’s other arm as the squall rushed around them. 

“I’ve got her. I’ve got her, Esra, let go of her.” Amsel ground out as he lifted the labourer and sat back on the wood to lift her into his lap without risking his own coordination. Gingerly Esra released the arm she held in a death grip and reach up to the edge of the platform and pull herself up, rolling onto her back. 

“Can tomorrow be more boring, Amsel? Please? I’m too old for this shit.” 

The words came painfully but still made Amsel laugh as he carefully settled his nearly unconscious burden over his shoulder. “If you’re old, what does that make me? Come on, we’re almost to the bottom. Go first so that if I lose my grip on her you can slow her down again. Tomorrow we’ll make Berinole strip that bloody section before we go any farther.”

Getting down the last two ladders was slow at first but once more refugees could reach them, shaken hands guided their steps to even ground and laid the injured worker on someone’s coat. A score dripped red onto the snow but were hardly slowed by their cuts and bruises. Only one other seemed to have suffered injuries of any severity, a man who also had been made to sit on a coat while Gannon examined the gash across his face. Bone showed even so many feet away. 

Wrapping an arm around her more than tender ribs, Esra made her way towards the woman she’d helped down. Amsel was shooing people away so he could get a better look, her eyes flickering aimlessly as his fingers searched her scalp. “Well, boss?”

“I don’t feel anything giving. I don’t think that stone cracked her skull open but it should’ve. Must have just grazed her. Still, it shook her brain up. Need to get her and a few others to the surgeon. Including you, I insist. Make sure your shoulder is in the right spot.” Amsel rose to his feet and rubbed at his eyes, then gave her a rare smile. “You’re a daredevil, I’ll give you that. Almost stopped my heart with that trick. Thank you, though. If you hadn’t… well. No one dies today.”

Seven people needed stitches. The woman who had been hit in the head took nearly a full day to wake up even with magic and the right side of her face was numb. The man had narrowly missed losing his eye but had a patch over it anyway to protect it. The bones around the eye had broken and swollen to the point he couldn’t see till it went down anyway. Stitches barely closed the cut that went from brow to jaw and he lost two teeth.

After a few excruciating touches, Esra determined firmly that nothing had broken in her ribs. Her arm moved fine but she kept it still anyway. Everything from the waist up ached as badly as anything she could recall. Thankfully, she couldn’t remember enough from after Ostagar to compare it to this. 

Sherice found her within three hours of the entire event, “You’re crazy.”

The dwarf’s caustic tone made her laugh faintly only to press a hand to her chest with a groan, “Sherice, please don’t do that. Laughing is a bit out of my ability now. Thank you for being worried, I’m touched.”

“In the head. Touched. In the head.” He shook his head and pressed both hands to his face. “Berinole is scheduling all work for tomorrow and the next day. We’ll get the entire section of cracked stone stripped and redone before we let anyone else work on the additions. These Templar additions… they’ll be worth it. They had best be.”

Esra arched a brow and her smile dimmed, “Careful not to put those stones under too much pressure. They might crack again. At least give them a few compliments so they know they’re appreciated if you’re going to give them impossible standards to meet.”

Sherice huffed and waved a hand in irritation, “It’s stone not a damn… person.” Even as he finished his statement his eyes were narrowing and his hands came to rest on his hips. “Maker’s balls, was that a joke? Out of you? An actual joke?”

“Well… now that you mention it, I’m not quite sure. It would be entirely out of character.” 

He rocked back slightly on his heels, a faint grin half hidden behind his beard, “Another one. Whatever that apothecary is giving you is a miracle. I might have to get some myself.”

The woman gave a small grin, carefully testing her ribs again along her side, “I think it’s more the rush of still being alive… just don’t tell Varric.”

“You’re still joking. Should I have someone check you for a hit to your head?” Sherice relaxed at last, folding his arms over his chest as the pair turned to slowly walk away from the surgeon’s tents.

“Oh, no. That one wasn’t a joke at all. Seriously, don’t tell Varric. I will never hear the end of it.”

“Alright, but take it easy the next two days. And sweet Andraste, tell me if you’re too sore t’ work still. No lies.” The dwarf elbowed her hip and made her wince even as she tried to suppress another small chuckle.

“Agreed.”

The number of active projects were vastly outnumbered by the mass of refugees and pilgrims who now inhabited the walls of Skyhold. With the tower additions now put on hold for a few days there were more than a few labourers who simply wandered the budding market and lazed in the tavern the next morning. 

News of the woman’s return to consciousness had Amsel, Gannon, and Sherice all in far happier moods, although only the former pair could be found at the bar. Sherice was helping Berinole’s team removed the crumbling stones at the pinnacle of the tower. 

“I hear you’re throwing yourself in front of other’s again, Nails. If you can find a place in this entire building to sit, I’ll get us drinks. I have got to hear about this one.” Varric grinned up at her, Bianca strapped to his back. “Maybe over there by Tiny. For some reason people give him a wide berth.”

He was gone before she could turn down the offer in a way that didn’t sound like running away. The word smith would have seen through anything anyway and Krem had already caught her eye. Escaping now would be obvious and a little embarrassing. Instead she sighed and wound her way through the crowds to grip the man’s hand, “I suppose there’s only so long I can avoid people like Varric and Bull even in a place as big as Skyhold.” 

Krem grinned and returned the friendly greeting, “I had a couple sovereigns bet that you’d last as long as you did. Everyone else underestimated you. To be fair, you probably could’ve made it to two weeks if you hadn’t gotten hurt, slowed you down.” 

“Well, I’m happy I made you a bit richer. Excuse me, I have a feeling I’m about to be lectured. Subtly.” Esra snorted slightly as she continued past the mercenary and approached Iron Bull. “Varric assumed there would be seats open here.” She made a bit of a show of looking around the nearly empty section of the bar. “For once he wasn’t exaggerating.”

“Since you’ve caught on, I guess we don’t need to be as subtle. Go ahead and pick where you want before Varric comes back. How’s your shoulder? I could see from the door when everything went down but it was done before the Chargers could offer help.” Bull grinned as he nodded his horned head to her, reaching to his left to grab a few nuts that were sitting in a bowl. 

Esra shrugged and then blinked a few times when her eyes watered up, “I can move, today at least. Might not be as mobile tomorrow. Just some bruises and pulled muscles, got luckier than others.”

Varric shook his head as he joined them, “Nails, I don’t think luck has as much to do with it as training. Not even time can make muscles entirely forget how to catch themselves, especially when you’ve stayed in even halfway decent shape.” 

She couldn’t help rolling her eyes even as she roughly ran a hand through the hair that covered half of her head. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were dropping the subtlety, Bull.”

Bull shrugged and grinned, “I wasn’t going to go that far but now that we have, we already know a lot but you still don’t have to tell us anything.”

“Which you already know, but bears repeating. Look, Nails, one of you can’t hold up a whole house by yourself. You need other nails for that.” Varric sat back and folded his arms behind his head, his tone light.

A frown deepened already lined features before Esra looked away and sighed, “You made your stance clear long before now, Master Tethras.”

For once the storyteller frowned, sitting forward. “Stance? You call friendship a stance? You almost sound Tranquil. Come on, Esra. By now I’m sure you know living like this isn’t right. We just want to help. You survived, you deserve more than what you’ve been allowing yourself.”

The silence between the three of them continued for a while before Bull slid a full mug over toward her. “You’re tired of fighting a war single handed. I can understand that much even if I can’t understand what that war is. We’re handing you a shield, maybe some armour. It’s up to you if you take it.”

“I can’t open that door. I can’t.” Esra felt her teeth grit and a headache began to build between her temples.

“A door can only hold so much. Any door. Or wall. It will give whether you want it to or not, especially here. On your own, maybe you could’ve made it work although you might as well have died for the suffering living like that must cause. There’s too much here, everything is just piling up on you. Open the door yourself and choose how it all comes out, or it’ll just bust open and it’ll take you over, Nails. I’ve been around too many strong, badass people who have led hard lives to not see how this is going to turn out.” Varric leaned forward with his hands on his knees, dropping the act for something far more earnest and determined. “I don’t want to watch it again.”

Esra growled silently, fighting the urge to stand up and walk away before wondering why she wasn’t. The cold chill in her chest at the idea that she might want to tell these people and believe what they said was enough to get her onto her feet although she stopped and leaned against the back of the fireplace stack. “I suppose it’s too much to ask you to stop caring then. I have no clue why you’ve fixated on me, Varric. There are two full on wars happening and some darkspawn who wants to be a god and the sky ripping open… you can’t have time for this.”

An unusually stern look crossed his face as he stood up as well, “Because if Aveline and I hadn’t been there from the very beginning, Hawke could have been you. She lost everything and was torn into the biggest debacles Kirkwall has likely ever seen, every major decision and the blame associated dropped on her shoulders. She is my best damn friend. You’ve got the pride, strength, smarts, and buried deep in there even the humour. You guys could use each other as mirrors. I could see it the second you walked out of Adan’s blasted hut.” 

Bull shifted slightly in his chair, looking a little taken aback by the heat in Varric’s words watching the two of them as if waiting to see if he should step in. Esra’s shoulders slumped, the weariness plain as day. “Hawke, aye?”

“I wouldn’t sell you a tall tale about this, Nails. I want more for both of you. This damnable world tears people like you two apart without mercy, the least we can do is give you some backup so you don’t have to take it alone.” Varric awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and stood back, the sudden intensity dimming down. 

Esra cleared her throat but before she could speak, a voice coming down the stairs caught her attention and red filled her vision. 

“I still can’t believe that bumbling fool lost Redcliffe. Loghain would have been able to bring the mage uprising under control within the first month or two and wouldn’t have lost Redcliffe or Therinfal Redoubt.” 

Threnn scoffed, “The mage uprising was Kirkwall’s fault. The Free Marches still would have burned to the ground, but you’re right. With Loghain and his daughter this would never have gone as far as it has if it even reached us. The Theirin line forgot how to really rule a country when Maric died.”

Varric frowned as the woman went still and white, glancing to Bull who was already standing but it was far too late. 

She was moving around the fireplace before her sight could even clear, following the pair out of the door. “Krem!” Bull’s warning was dulled and hardly mattered to her as she grabbed the man’s shoulder and spun him to a stop. 

“You think Loghain was such an accomplished leader, do you? Were you there?” Her voice dropped to a dangerous hiss and Threnn’s eyes began to narrow as well as she reached out to separate them.  
“I was. Ostagar was a failure, Loghain salvaged everything he could. If Cailan had listened even once he would still-“ 

Threnn’s words ended abruptly just as Krem exited the tavern with Bull and Varric right behind him. The man with Threnn stumbled with the sudden release while Esra lunged for Threnn. Alarm spread through the crowd in the courtyard as punches flew and growls echoed through the snowy yard. The violence came to a head so swiftly it was hard to discern which fist belonged to which woman. 

“Krem…” Bull’s face was grim as he nodded to one side and stalked towards the other. Each man grabbed one of the pair and forcibly separated them. Cassandra was rushing over from the training dummies behind the tavern as both women glared daggers at each other. Threnn’s eye was darkening already and blood dripped from her nose and split lip. Esra’s jaw was beginning to show signs of swelling and she favoured her injured ribs, scratched welts rising along the side of her throat as they panted for breath.

Threnn shook Krem off and bunched her fists with a snarl, picking her hat off the ground. “You want someone to blame, the Wardens. Cailan himself. We all would have died without Loghain. The King was an idiot with strategy and the Wardens swept him away with tales of glory then let him down.” 

“Enough!” Cassandra had reached them and her voice rang with a sharp command as she stepped in the middle. “Walk away. Now, Threnn. You know bringing up your views around others leads to this, I am tired of having to step in.”

Esra pulled away from Bull as Varric walked closer, pressing both hands to her face. A firm hand stopped her but she pulled her arm out from under Cassandra’s grip with a flinch. The effort it had taken not to swing automatically was nearly painful. 

“You’re not okay, Nails. Neither was that even if she’s wrong.” 

“Wrong… That word isn’t even close to good enough.” Esra’s voice rasped more than usual as she gripped her right hand into her hair. “Maker, I’m going to go take a walk. I can’t talk about this right now. It’s there and I want to scream it but it’s all anger, it’s pain. I can’t right now, not like that.”

Varric nearly swore as he watched the woman walk away down the stairs towards the bridge out of Skyhold’s courtyard. Cassandra turned to look at them both with shock that Krem openly shared, “Varric, what in the world is going on here?”

Bull sighed and folded his arms over his chest, “We pushed too hard. Or, just hard enough but without expecting interference from outside sources. I’m beginning to think it wasn’t Denerim, Varric.”

“You kidding, Tiny? After that I don’t think there’s much doubt. I just… I can’t even think of what that would be like. Let alone trying to handle it alone for ten years.” He threw his hands up in the air before stuffing them into his pockets. “I’ll get in touch with Curly. He’s already gotten through a bit, maybe he can be the buffer. If she even comes back, we talk to her again tonight when there’s no other trouble available in the bar.”


	20. A Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of the pushing on both sides has come down to this conversation. Esra makes the decision to give the people attempting to befriend her a glimpse of what is haunting her but the tale itself is so difficult she almost can't get through it. Only time will tell if it will help or break her but she has a few new friends determined to make things better.
> 
> **Posting early this week because I have Comic-Con in my area this weekend and wasn't sure if I'd have time between it and Mother's Day and such to post on Sunday. Enjoy! Please have a great week and don't hesitate to give feedback, even constructive.

Varric had been right, of course, she’d gone overboard but it had happened so quickly that she couldn’t figure out when she was supposed to have made herself stop. Going over it in her head repeatedly, analysing every action as though it had been ten minutes long, sure there were moments to pull back. Yet it had been less than maybe 30 seconds. Bull and Krem had been right behind her to pull them apart so quickly. 

Was she losing control of it even though she’d finally gotten the nightmares under control? How the hell was saying it all out loud supposed to help prevent that? 

“Nope.”

“Obviously, I would start hallucinating after sitting in a snowbank all day and into night fall.”

His laugh could still make her smile as she closed her eyes. He was sitting next to her, she could visualise it, but she knew if she looked he’d be gone and honestly… she just wanted him back for a little while. “You’re thinking in entirely the wrong direction on this, Melli. But you already know that, you’re just stubborn and proud.”

“And you’re so wise, Your Majesty?” The scoff came lightly while she rubbed her hands across her arms to try and bring back some of the feeling.

“Mock me if you must, I’ve heard I’ve only got one feeling to hurt so the damage will be minimal. And you can’t get out of this conversation by distracting me this time. It isn’t about preventing things or even fixing them. Some things can’t be fixed and this is one of them.” 

Esra shook her head, pressing a hand over her eyes and laying back in the snow.

“You were never one to give up, Melli. That’s why I knew everything would work out as long as you were there. I thought of Duncan the same way. I put too much on both of you. Your lips are turning blue, I think I should probably get to the point.”

A faint chuckle escaped, Maker how she had missed the way he talked. Alistair had almost the same quirks. They would have gotten along so well if they had been given a chance. “I don’t want you to go.” The smile faded away till nothing but a deep emptiness marked her pale face in the night. 

“I’m gone. But I’m not going anywhere, Melli. You’re… You need a purpose again. You’re the kind of person who grabs hold of something and does it so well with such drive that everyone else has to stand back in awe and just watch you work. This… languishing in eternal turmoil only befriended by the dead thing… is very Nevarran of you, actually. You did everything you could, you were literally in pieces by the time you got to me and I wanted to tell you then it was okay but I couldn’t get the words out. What happened can’t hurt me anymore and I don’t need you to keep fighting for me like it’s still going on. Fight for you, I’ll live through that. Vicariously perhaps.”

The laugh echoed off the quiet snow-caps, “That was cliched and almost overly sentimental and could have come from any of a thousand bad Antivan or Orlesian novels, if you hadn’t been joking the entire time.”

“I told you people I could read. Seriously though, Melli, I don’t want to be the reason you died at Ostagar when you survived. Show them what we were made of, what we could have done if we hadn’t trusted the wrong people. Get back inside before you freeze to death. Stop being so alone. When you’re wounded, that’s when you call in the backup so you can get your feet and keep swinging. All those other supportive things everyone is ever supposed to say that never get through to the person they’re meant for.”

“I hear you. I just know it’s only me thinking it, you’re not actually here.”

The silence extended for a minute until she almost believed he was already gone. The voice was soft as it returned, “Am I not? It’s possible, isn’t it? The Veil was torn and all manner of things have been showing up. Maybe I came back one last time to help someone I truly care about. Or I could be a hallucination. Perhaps a spirit of faith or compassion who picked up on Cailan Theirin’s last moments and reached out to someone so trapped in the same instant that she still screams his name from her soul. Does it matter what I am or if I’m real if the words are still meant from the heart and are real enough in themselves?”

Esra cleared her throat and opened her eyes although she simply stared up at the sky, feeling them burn from the cold and a fresh wave of held back tears. “Hadn’t thought about that.”

“Melli. I don’t know what to say, I was good with jokes but I’ve never really had to console a friend before. I’m okay, I’m out of harm’s way, but I can’t stand seeing you like this when I remember you so strong and funny in the way you were far too serious for someone younger than me, you’re a powerful person to be around. You commanded loyalty because you cared and because your determination was infectious. It hurts that you’re still in so much pain. Even if it doesn’t help, even if you still can’t heal, if you tell someone else then at least you won’t be alone with the pain and that would be enough to make me feel better. I can’t be that for you, I can only make it worse because I remind you of times without doubt and agony. It’s terrible to feel so helpless when I just want to put you back together and take it all away. Please, don’t let this be the end.”

Never had she heard Cailan speak so but it was still him without a doubt. He’d had a passion in his bearing that apparently even the Fade could recall a decade late. A pity Thedas had never seen it but Alistair shared it as well as their matching humour. The feeling of company had receded, still leaving her questioning if it was a memory, a hallucination, or a spirit as she rose to her feet and dusted herself off. 

She wasn’t ready yet, not by a long shot, but if she hadn’t gotten to that point in ten years then waiting wouldn’t change it. It would have to be done without being ready, without knowing what would happen or if she would completely humiliate herself. Part of her mind screamed a denial, that part which still reached for Cailan’s hand as if she could reverse it through sheer guilt and desperation. The rest of her was exhausted and thin, barely able to make the steps back into the fortified keep before she could change her mind again. 

“Maker’s breath! I was about to send out a search party when Varric told me you’d been gone for hours.” Strong hands broke her distraction as they gripped her shoulders only to be immediately replaced by a coat so heavy it made her tired knees wobble. The warmth was almost painful. The Commander wrapped an arm around her shoulders again and guided her up the steps, the feathered pauldron brushing her face till she wrinkled her nose. 

“Cabot, something hot please, she’s frozen.” Cullen moved her into a chair in the dim tavern, scooting her chair before the fireplace and rubbing her arms through the coat and her thin jacket to try and help. 

Varric, Iron Bull, and Cassandra weren’t far behind and came in through the tavern door with obvious relief. The storyteller was already pulling a chair over but Cassandra hung back by the door and Iron Bull leaned against a post holding up the second floor. Everything grew quiet again as Cabot came out with drinks and Cullen steadied Esra’s hand to help her drink once everything started shaking. Surreptitiously he also leaned in slightly to check her hands for signs of frost damage while she was distracted. 

Varric was watching her closely enough that he noticed before she started to speak and held a hand up, “Not yet, Nails. We’re not here for explanations, we just want to make sure you’re okay. Running off like that might have been what you needed but it was reckless in these conditions. Let us just make sure you’re okay, then talk if you still need to.”

Esra stared at him for a moment and then smiled faintly, dropping her head lower. Cassandra stepped out only to return a moment later with a folded blanket, “Here, Commander. She’s soaked, her legs are probably just as cold.” The offering was instantly taken and draped around her legs. Cullen even tucked it in around her before leaning back and folding his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this.” The woman frowned at her drink as she let it rest in her lap, warming her hands with the sides of her mug.

Iron Bull snorted from behind her where he leaned near the base of the stairs still, “Why? We’re too important and busy? You’re too insignificant? You’ve had a bad attitude and tried to push us away? Spare us, you’re still a member of the Inquisition and you’ve made a difference. You did what you did because you’re in pain, all of us have been through enough to see it and we won’t judge you for it until we’ve gotten you put back together, kid. We care and we want our people to succeed, if each of us could be friends with everyone… we would probably still pick and choose because there are some real assholes here but we would at least try.”

“We saw you, Nails, and we knew that was someone to keep around even if we can’t get to know everyone in this place.” The Dwarf sat back and rested his hands on his stomach, visibly relaxing now that she was talking.

Quietly Esra toed her waterlogged boots off in an attempt to warm her feet up faster. Cullen was a constant presence right next to her despite his silence and it reminded her awkwardly that she had been avoiding him irrationally. Everyone here was far too patient and it made her feel a bit childish, the realisation of which caused a weak laugh to start.

Cassandra arched a brow, “Maybe the cold went to her head. Does she have a fever? I can call the apothecary.”

Varric shook his head with a grin, “Nah, she’s just a little hysterical. It’ll pass.”

“Less hysterical and more embarrassed but you were close enough.” Esra cleared her throat to try and minimise the rasp which the exposure to the cold had exacerbated. “Alright I refuse to go through this more than once so…” She straightened with a sigh and then glanced around as she tucked the blanket and coat more firmly. A hand came to rest on her shoulder and made her startle slightly before she realised it was still Cullen. Cassandra settled into a chair a few feet away.

“I’m… not even sure where to start.” In a gesture that was beginning to feel repetitive, she rubbed at her tired face. “I’ll just assume you saw the armour when Krem brought it back.”

Cabot came around with more drinks, passing by a shadow hovering behind Bull without even noticing its presence. Varric gladly accepted the second though his first was mostly full, “At first we thought it might have been someone you lost but you didn’t seem upset about your brother and the armour design is female. So, yours. The dents in the helmet sort of proved that theory. Then we considered maybe Denerim or Redcliffe.”

Surprise flickered across her pale face for a moment before the exhaustion sank in even deeper, “I suppose those are all logical conclusions but I made it to none of those battles. I fought at Ostagar.”

The silence was so thick it was palpable, the shock showing on every face except Bull’s who looked a bit sad instead. When no one offered up a response or even seemed like they could let the information process yet, Esra continued. “My parents were Orlesian, my father a Chevalier. They came to Ferelden when he grew tired of dancing around the intricacies of politics there. I had one older brother. I told Cassandra my full name, Melisande Esra, but asked her not to use it because I didn’t want Leliana hearing and digging up my past. I needed to not be that person for a while. I joined the Ferelden army with my brother when I had just turned seventeen and he nineteen. They were coming around recruiting and saw us practicing in front of our house. My brother was a sword and shield man but I’d always loved two handed weapons. He called it an obsession. They were so thrown by the idea of this scrawny girl child beating up her brother with a great sword. One man in particular fought for me to be allowed in despite my age and the unofficial practice of refusing to accept every child from a single household. I don’t know if they still do that but it was, I suppose, to prevent a family from losing all of its children.”

The shadow behind Bull flickered, “Longing. Loss. Long ago. I miss it. It was simpler then. Why do you think it’s all gone? They’re still there. They waited. Missing… missed, wait was that her? No, her hair wasn’t quite the right shade. He’s not there though, not him.”

Varric cleared his throat at the surprised look on Esra’s face, “Let her talk, kid. It’s the kind of thing you need momentum to get through.”

“Sorry. So much hurt. Tight, tangled knot of black so deep it pulls. I need to help, seek to soothe.” The thin boy stepped into the light and reached up agitatedly with a hand covered in a fingerless glove to fidget with the wide brim of his hat. “I’ll try harder.”

Cullen’s hand squeezed her shoulder lightly after a moment and she shook herself, “Right. That was a few years before the Blight obviously. I was, that is, my brother and I both were picked up by the Ferelden Royal Guard. It might have been favouritism but I did my damndest to refuse favours and make it clear I wanted to be judged on skill like the others, but by the time I was nineteen I was second in command under the Captain. Cailan would… come out and participate in training drills and then go drinking with us. Said he didn’t just want a guard there, he wanted friends, that it would make the bond stronger and make everyone work together harder. Better. It worked. We were fiercely loyal to him, devoted. Enough to put up with the most ridiculous shit. Maker… that armour. We fought so hard over that. I ended up interacting with Cailan the most since our Captain was traveling a great deal. He was… the best friend and brother I’d never had.”

Fighting a yawn and trying not to think about what she was saying, she twisted her cup in her hands and watched the dregs swish around. “Everything was going so well. Too well maybe. We’d routed every party of darkspawn we had come across and the Grey Wardens were… incredible. Duncan especially had this air that made you want to take on the world if he just said the world just to make him proud of you. Intimidating and awe-inspiring, that man, but so compassionate beneath. I think I had a pretty severe case of hero worship back then.” A weak chuckle escaped but was short-lived. 

“My brother, on the other hand, worshiped the very ground Loghain stood upon. I admired his tactical planning because I’d studied it in training but my brother would have probably licked his boots if it would honestly get him into Mac Tir’s good graces. He treated his words like a new holy book and scorned the Wardens. It irritated the hell out of the other guardsmen and I had to break up a couple heated discussions. The hm… rift between us only grew larger each time and we had never really gotten along to begin with. Anyway, I met Alistair there as well, with the Wardens. We got along excellently considering he was a mirror image of Cailan although I said nothing of my suspicions or observations.”

Just be numb. Just rip it off and say it all quickly and then down another drink. It’ll be over. If you think about it then it will never come out. “We were all nervous about Ostagar. Cailan was stressed which meant everyone picked up on the severity of the situation. Most of us wanted to wait for more Wardens or even Orlesian backup.” She scoffed suddenly, “Loghain didn’t like me. If it’d been known I had lived he might have had Howe frame me as an Orlesian spy sent to help the Wardens cut our King down so that we would be demoralised and easy to overtake. Oh, I can hear the lies now.”

Cole twitched and Varric quietly shook his head, almost wishing he could laugh at the kid but, then again, he didn’t know how uncomfortable it had to be for Cole to be so close to so much anger and pain. The very idea made him wince. 

“It was still dark out when we all got into place.”

Cassandra leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, sympathy and horror glistening in her eyes. Esra’s were empty, staring into a distance none of them could see, head bowed. 

“Alistair and the woman Duncan had recruited went to Ishal. Loghain remained back with around two thirds of our forces. All the other Wardens were with us. We were around Cailan and Duncan was at his side.” A tremor wracked her body but she couldn’t tell if it was cold or something else. Cullen’s hand was still on her shoulder though he hadn’t said a word and was essentially out of her line of sight. “There were so many. You could hear them coming. Unholy screeching. People were trying to back away but those behind them made them stand fast. The mabari and the long-range volleys went first as planned and then we followed Cailan towards them. For Ferelden.”

A tick was starting in her shoulder beneath Cullen’s hand. She needed to get through this, had to keep going, but the air felt thick. Cole began humming something that she vaguely remembered and it made a soft blanket over the forceful edge of the panic trying to break through. “It was insane. I will never in all my life be able to describe it. It wasn’t a battle, it was primitive. Fighting for your life. We tried to keep formation but they just scattered us. For each soldier, there were three… four… maybe more darkspawn. They weren’t an army, they were a disaster flooding through our ranks like water. Then Ishal lit up and you could see the relief. We were saved. It was like watching the birth of new faith. Until I saw my brother’s face. He’d been fighting nearby and just… stopped, staring behind me. I knew before I had turned around but I wasn’t sure what I knew.”

Esra slowly shook her head, “I’d heard of tales where you can watch someone’s spirit break before you. An entire army did just that. They watched Loghain leave and either… stopped and crumpled beneath the darkspawn or else everything remotely human left their eyes and they just threw themselves into the fight. They tore like animals at the darkspawn until they were killed, taking as many with them as they could. It was… sick.”

“Duncan somehow managed to stay within a few feet of Cailan and I was so distracted trying to catch back up with him I missed the one coming up on my left. Got me with a maul type of weapon right in my head. Helm flew clean off.” She gestured to the scars across the left side of her head, shearing her ear in half and gouging from the corner of her jaw to the top of her head. “Some of the damage was the caved metal from the helmet I’m sure. It… somewhere before that I’d been getting hold of people I could and telling them to run with whoever they could escape with. Warn the nearest villages. Tell anyone. One I remember was Orlesian like me, red hair, I pulled a Genlock off her and told her to go but it took a few times. She wanted to win but knew we couldn’t.”

Varric sat bolt upright, “Aveline! Oh, shit. Sorry.” He cleared his throat, “She made it and helped the Hawke siblings escape when it spread to Lothering. I met them in Kirkwall, great people. Sorry, continue.”

A dull smirk curved one corner of pale lips, “Well… that’s something good at least. Did something right. It… only went downhill from there. I stumbled around trying to find my helmet for some unknown reason and kept finding dead members of my guard instead. I could barely see but Cailan’s face… I’d never seen that look before. He knew and he had the wrath of the Maker in his eyes like it was physically with him. The beast followed me and was punching me on that side of my face with these spiked gauntlets that hurt like fire. I managed to get my balance to use my greatsword and sheared him in half after two or three hits.”

One hand balled into a fist and rose to press to her forehead. “I caught sight of that fucking ogre heading right for Cailan and Duncan and… I tried so hard. Honestly that first attack should have brought me down. One eye was stinging from blood and couldn’t open, the other was seeing double if not triple, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t. He was right there, so close.” Everything tightened and she needed to do something. Anything. Without thought she threw her mug across the room hard enough to dent the metal and make Varric flinch back just in case. Cullen had a hand on each shoulder now his fingers pressing in slightly. “I was desperate. Damn beast, an Alpha, came at my left because it knew I couldn’t see and the sword… at least it came up at a bad angle. It sheared through the armour but hung up on my lower ribs when I collapsed over it and slid off. He tried to swing as I went down but I blocked with my arm and it shattered the bone. Probably would’ve finished me off then but an Emissary’s rogue fireball knocked him back and grazed me. Cauterized my side or that would have killed me too. I couldn’t really feel anything anymore because there was just too damn much to feel. Everything hurt but I got up.”

A tremble went through Cassandra’s hand as she brought it to her mouth and swallowed hard, a heartfelt pride hidden behind her gaze although Esra was oblivious to everything but the images playing out in her head and a single touch barely keeping her tethered to reality. “Too late. I was feet. Feet away. Ten, maybe fifteen. It… Cailan had always been larger than life. His energy could fill a room. It just wrapped a single hand around his chest.” A snarl was showing as she brought the white-knuckled fist away from her forehead and stared at it, tension popping out along her jaw. “One hand, picked him right off the ground and roared. There was a second where nothing felt real and then it… squeezed.” Cassandra choked and Iron Bull grimaced, Cullen’s hands tightening for just a moment as a bitter tear slid down Esra’s cheek. “I could see his head jerk back and his arms and legs twitch before the monster tossed him away like trash. Duncan was frozen too, looking at me while I looked between him and Cailan.”

One hand waved meaninglessly, mostly to release the painful tightness in her chest and back that made her hunch further and further into her chair with each passing moment. “He landed maybe five feet from me. Gold armour with so much red all over it. I think I dropped my sword, my hands were numb. Everything was gone, like I didn’t exist really. I tried to reach out for him and something knocked me forward. That Alpha had caught up with me and I was just standing there like a target dummy so he opened me up to the bone from my right hip to my left shoulder and the hit had tossed me to the ground. I remember… everything getting foggy but I was on my knees ignoring the darkspawn and crawling towards Cailan. I had to reach him, that was all I could focus on.”

Nausea welled up and the veteran twisted in agitation, unable to look up from the floor. “He was still alive. Choking on his own blood. I was hoping… maybe a rib punctured his heart and it would be over but we could never get that much luck that night.” Cassandra made another sound of pain, Varric was sitting back with a pale face and both hands gripping into his hair. “I dragged myself a little closer and managed to grab his hand, it had fallen stretched in my direction and he had so much pain on his face. I tried to… tried to…” 

Her voice broke and she slammed her fist into her thigh, would have again but Cullen’s hands released her shoulders to grip her own hands, shifting from behind her to beside her silently. Cole crouched down, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck. “Take a breath. Just one.” Cullen sounded soft and calm despite his normal discomfort with emotional situations. 

She’d told Varric she couldn’t do this. Told them all, in fact. There was too much, how was she supposed to hold it together when she couldn’t even tell what was real anymore? Everything hurt and her breath was becoming ragged as she curled over her own knees, her hands trapped by Cullen’s or they would’ve been wrapped around her head. A shattered but deeper breath later and she could feel the dizziness fading. 

“I… tried to tell him I was sorry. He just… smiled at me. Then he was gone. Duncan had killed the ogre and managed to get to us in time to kill the Alpha over me. Then they were all over him. I think I remember him praying out loud but it was so hazy. It might have been the Grey Warden creed now that I’m thinking about it.” Her voice was hollow and exhausted, ugly tears clogging her throat before falling down her face. She didn’t bother sitting up, wasn’t even sure if she could. “Everything went dark after that but somehow I didn’t bleed out before the Chasind found me while looting everything in the early day. The darkspawn had started to move into the ruins and pick through the corpses and survivors but I guess they dozed off for a few hours. Apparently the Cousland boy was found by similarly daring looters. The Chasind used what they had to put me relatively into one piece and found my helmet. My next solid memory was two months later in Denerim where the Captain of the royal guard had been visiting to settle family matters. He’d barely recognised me but pulled me out of triage and into his home. Messaged the best doctors and healers he could find. By the time the Battle of Denerim rolled around I was in some Orlesian hospital. He had gotten myself and his family out in search of better treatments for me. No one is quite sure how I didn’t die or how I avoided catching the Blight. I never cared enough to find out. A year after the Blight ended I was physically well enough to half ass it on my own and I ran. Hid near a Dalish encampment in the Brecilian forest and shut everything out.”

The silence went on for a while until Cole breathed a sigh of relief, “The knot isn’t as dark now. The pain is more but it isn’t as tight. Good.”

Varric rubbed a hand over his face and sighed also, “Well… shit. Nails…”

A weak voice interrupted him, “The last thing he ever said to me was ‘Melli, get some rest. I’ve kept you up long enough, we have to save the world tomorrow after all’. So many things burned into my head that I can’t forget. Vance’s laugh has been haunting me since I got to Skyhold. Idiot… he was so empty when I saw him laying on the ground. Nothing there. That wasn’t a battle, it was a massacre. Slaughter. Loghain… even if he thought we couldn’t win, he knew how to push a foe back so that you could gather the survivors and then retreat. He had enough men to make the line to do it. He. Fucking. Left.”

At a loss for once, Varric scratched slightly at his forehead, watching the broken woman sadly. Cassandra rose and moved closer to crouch in front of Esra’s chair and rest a hesitant hand on her knee. “You survived because of who you are, Melisande. You are not just a fighter, you are a tactician. You can see the strengths and weaknesses and you work them all to your advantage to just take that one step more because you know something out there will give you the upper hand again. We are not leaving and we will support you in whatever way you need to overcome this wound. You can cry and lose control without feeling weak or ashamed, not a single soul could fault you or deny you that if they knew what you had been through.”

The last of the fire drained from Esra’s body at the words, her vision swimming as Cullen gently helped her sit up again. Bull stepped in closer with his arms folded and a serious expression, watching her. “I think she’s mostly checked out. We can continue this after she’s slept this off. Cassandra, can you let the foreman know tomorrow that she’ll need another week?”

The Seeker nodded and straightened as Cole moved to Cullen’s side and rested a hand on Esra’s shoulder. “I will do just that. Once she has recovered we cannot let her slide into it. We need to get her right back into work. Perhaps some time with the Chargers? A close-knit group could support her more than the refugees at large.”

The Iron Bull nodded slowly, then rubbed at his jaw. “I think she’ll start improving once we can get her back into training. It’ll give her a tactile example of her strength, but the injuries she’s described are bad. I want one of the healers to look and make sure the scars haven’t affected too much of her movement before we get her into anything much more serious than lifting rocks and swinging wooden swords.”

Varric approached the two who were supporting Esra. She was shivering still but tired, sad eyes met his as he rested a hand on her arm. “You really are just like Hawke, Nails. It’ll be okay now. Let us help, we’ll go your speed.”

Melisande nodded slowly and then closed her eyes as Cole brushed a hand over her temple. “It’s been a long day for all present. I’ll see to it Esra is taken care of, somewhere a bit more secure than the refugee’s quarters.” Cullen addressed Varric quietly, “She’ll be alright.” Carefully the Commander slid his arms beneath her chest and knees to lift her against his own. He winced as the raised scar tissue pressed into his arm but shifted her so her head leaned to his shoulder. 

Seeming to simply reappear at the door, Cole held it open as Cullen stepped out into the night with his senseless bundle, heading towards the main keep of Skyhold and vanishing into its halls.


	21. Step One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an emotional night, Cullen decides leaving Esra alone isn't a great idea. Upon waking he realises he was spot on and a very earnest conversation is required to keep her from shutting himself and others out again. After being dismissed, Esra decides to ride this wave of idiotic bravery and asks Dagna and Elan Ve'mal for their help in the next step.

There was something very familiar about the smell of oiled metal. It brought her back to the day when she had brought Cailan to meet her parents at his insistence. Her mother had been fiddling with some rising bread dough, her Chevalier father sitting at the table watching her as he tended his old sword and armour. Ser Cyril and Dame Merise had taken to the boy instantly despite his unexpected arrival and his intention to speak about her older brother’s attitude problems had been swiftly forgotten. 

It had been impossible not to grin like a lunatic when they found themselves on the porch waving as they departed, Cailan looked suddenly startled as he realised he was leaving with nothing beside freshly made bread that steamed slightly in the chill and invitations to join the family for Summerday two months away. 

He had looked at her sheepishly, gesturing with the loaf in his hand back to the door. “Should I go back and ask them what to do about him?”

Melisande had simply snorted, “They knew exactly what you were here for, that’s why they kept you talking and eating. He’s your problem now, not theirs.”

A chair scraped across stone and it jarred her from the memory, tired eyes blinking open. Nothing about the room looked familiar and her entire body ached like she had been beaten to a pulp. “Ah, my apologies. I hope I didn’t wake you up.” Parchment shuffled and the chair moved again before footsteps approached and the Commander sank down into a crouch at her side. “How are you feeling? Is anything numb or sharply painful? I saw no signs of frost damage but I did not take liberties to check closely.”

Esra blinked a few times to try and focus, shifting on the low cot to get a better look at her surroundings. It was an office. “I can feel everything, trust me. But no, I don’t think the frost got me. Where am I?”

Cullen flushed slightly and twisted to look towards his door. “My office. I wanted to make sure you were undisturbed but also were not alone if you suffered adverse effects from exposure. I have a hard time sleeping so it wasn’t an inconvenience to stay up myself for the task. No one has come in, I redirected everyone to Sister Leliana so that no one woke you.”

“Ah.” After a moment, the veteran coughed and gingerly sat herself up. Cullen’s hand was instantly but lightly at her elbow to provide balance if it was needed. 

Far from an idiot, he frowned as he felt the tension rise and the silence began to extend. The sigh that came was tired but held none of the frustration she expected. Instead he settled himself onto the end of the temporary bed which her feet had vacated when she had sat up. “Melisande, I know you feel embarrassed. Maybe even judged. It’s an extremely vulnerable position you put yourself in for absolute strangers in complete trust last night. You think no one can understand and… that might be true. I can come close, however, if you’ll hear me out.”

The Commander gave her no chance to say yes or no, instead resting his clasped hands on his knees and beginning to speak again. “I haven’t told many all of this, although Cassandra knows and I’ve been considering telling the Inquisitor. I want you to know how much I understand you, however, even if I didn’t owe it to you for your honesty and trust last night. I was in Ferelden during the Fifth Blight as well. As a young Templar I was stationed at the Circle Tower in Lake Calenhad under Greagoir. During the Blight, we were rescued by the last two Wardens and their friends when they came to us seeking the mages for treaties to fight the darkspawn. Upon their arrival, they found the Templars trapped on the ground level and the entire tower overcome by demons and abominations. Instead of abandoning us they fought their way to the top and rescued all they could.”

He held up a hand quietly when she winced and opened her mouth to speak, “Please, I’m almost done. It’s… difficult to get through as I’m sure you comprehend. I was trapped on the level right beneath the top floor of the tower. They had me there for days I think, I was never certain how long exactly, forcing their way through my mind and tormenting me with… terrible images. Nightmares and offers that almost broke me to resist. Even though they saved me, I was never truly the same after that. It would be impossible to believe anyone could go through that torture without being affected deeply. Greagoir sent me to the Chantry at Greenfell until I could regain control of my fear and anger. By the time I was sent to Kirkwall to serve under Meredith, I was no longer lashing out but I still was so blinded that I let events go without enough question that ended with hundreds killed in the streets and began a war.”

The pair sat in silence for a few slow breaths as he thoughtfully rubbed his hands together and stared distantly at the far wall. He sighed, “We both suffered but I had so much support to get where I am. You’ve had no one, nor lyrium to dull the memories. The night terrors are still horrible for me so… I honestly cannot imagine what you fight through every day and night.”

The quiet grew more comfortable and Esra let her shoulders drop, the release of tension making her entire torso slump. One hand rubbed wearily at her face before she responded softly, “I’m sorry you went through that. At least with all I went through, nothing but my own fears and memories messed with my head. That would truly be too much. Commander, I don’t know what it is you and the others want from me. I told them what they wanted to know.”

A heavy hand came to a rest on her own, earnest eyes searching hers out as she uncovered her face. “Cullen, please. I’m not here as your commanding officer, I’m here trying to prove that I am your friend. It is probably one of the simplest and most difficult things we could ask of you, Melisande. Let us help. Stop pushing away and hiding. We all know it won’t happen overnight, but we want to support you the way you should have been yet never were. Just saying that you’ll try will be enough for them for now.”

A grim smile twisted pale lips and Esra tilted her head, “Not enough for you? Or was it only an accident that you failed to include yourself?”

Cullen sat back with a far warmer smile than her own though it was adorably awkward and pulled at the scarred corner, “I want more than that. I want you to promise you’ll come to one of us if it ever gets too much. Whether it’s nightmares or someone idiot opens their mouth again and sets you off. I don’t care. I’m the most likely to be awake since I have my fair share of them still too, but I’ll understand if you feel you can’t come find me. We’re all under a lot right now, I just want to know that you will swear not to take on these demons alone anymore.”

A heavy breath ruffled her loose bangs. It wasn’t really all that much to ask for, was it? It seemed like a great deal, however. Giving her word on this officially put an end to any chance she had of returning to the solitary nothingness she had used as a balm and barrier. Everything would start over and nothing would be certain but Maker’s balls… did she really want to remain as she was for the rest of her days? 

“I don’t know how well it’ll go. A decade of habit is hard to shift, Com-Cullen. I promise to do my best to think of you or one of the others before I get in over my head again. And, I suppose, to be more realistic in my expectations for what I can reliably handle. If I’m flying off the handle at strangers, I’m obviously not as stable as I thought.” Awkwardly she removed her hand from beneath his and rubbed the back of her neck. 

He nodded and rose to his feet again after watching her for a long moment and clearing his throat almost nervously, “Don’t worry about it. You’re not the first to have a go at her, that’s partly why we replaced her as Quartermaster. You can sleep a bit longer here if you want, or entertain yourself elsewhere. I, sadly, remain trapped here by paperwork, but Cassandra cleared your schedule with Sherice for a few days.”

“Cullen, you said that the lyrium dulls the memories. Wouldn’t that help with the nightmares? Or has it simply been stress about Haven keeping you up?” Esra swung her feet to touch the floor next to the makeshift cot, her expression more concerned than before. 

Quietly he shifted some parchment on his desk, briefly turning away from her. One hand gripped the armour at his throat to pull it down slightly as though it were uncomfortably close. “I don’t take it anymore. I haven’t for months.” The words were a quiet sigh but when he turned back to her, he was crisp and precise again, speaking quickly, “Cassandra has given her word to watch me. I will not allow my choices to endanger those in my command, I assure-“

Esra cut him off with a sharp gesture, rising to her feet, “Blight on that, I know the Inquisition won’t suffer. You must be though, can’t that kill you? You sit here speaking to me of taking care of myself but you put everything, even societal constructs, ahead of your own health. Are you… alright?”

The pair simply watched each other as a cloud passed the sun and the room dimmed until Cullen awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck again, but managed a faint smile. “It hasn’t yet. I’m doing alright, Melisande. Thus far it’s been… manageable.” The moment dragged out a bit longer until he cleared his throat a second time, glancing away from her again towards the door, “Right, I should… probably get some more work done on these reports. Nor do I wish to take away your day more than I already have with my lecturing.”

“That’s… right. Thank you, Commander. For helping.” With a brief nod, the woman ducked out of the office and softly closed the door, continuing across the stone walkway to the next door and pushing past it. Once in the room she stopped, wrapping her arms about her torso. She didn’t have any wish to see Bull or Varric yet, though she was heading in the direction of the entrance to the tavern’s top floor. 

“Raw, wrenched, rent. There is something that does know how you feel.” 

“Maker!” Esra gripped her heart as she stumbled back and stared at the skinny figure who stood fidgeting to her left in the room. 

“No, I’m not him. I’m Cole.” He nodded, his voice slow and full of thought. 

“Cole. I… you were there? I think. Last night when I was talking to, doesn’t matter.” She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes to focus on slowing her heart rate down from its painful throb.

A bright smile changed his features despite how small it was, “You remember. Fleeting, fuzzy, figure in shadow? I was really there. I want to help. You know where to go but you want to go alone this time. They won’t see you if I walk you there.”

What an odd person. “So, you’re a mage or something? You can make yourself invisible?”

The smile faded back into thought. “Spirit. I can make them forget. You’re not loud or bright or angry.”

Esra sighed and rubbed at her chest where the tension from her shock was fading swiftly now, “A spirit. I think I’ve seen it all now.” A nagging thought told her she should be putting far more space between them than she had any intention of doing. She was numb and far too tired and sore to bother. “We walk down and everyone basically forgets I was there?”

He nodded but said nothing else more on the matter. He didn’t need to. “Lead the way, Cole.”

It was the strangest feeling to walk down the stairs and right past Krem only for him to look right past her without reaction. The trend continued as they crossed the open courtyard and only escalated when all the refugee labourers she shared her room with decided to go and do something at the tavern instead of resting. “Did you do that, Cole?”

“I can’t do that. They just like drinking now. It makes blonde hair and giggles less painful for one, the others are the same. You’re trying not to think about it but it’s waiting for you. It has been for years. It’s ready, it wants to mean something again.”

“Are you actually talking to my armour? Andraste’s flaming ashes can this get any stranger?” She hoped the look on her face wasn’t as uncomfortable as she felt about the idea but she bent to yank the heavy sack out from under the hard bed. 

The only time she could ever recognise the amount of damage she had taken was by looking at her armour, something she had avoided near religiously. The breastplate had caved in, the leather straps cut away to remove the pieces from her broken body. The back was nearly cleaved in half, the edges of the large crevasse curling in toward what had been her flesh when she had worn it. The left side was twisted in the mockery of a grin where the sword had curved up under her ribs with the first slice, tarnished by the signs of fire. One vambrace, the left, had a heavy crease in it that made her arm ache just looking at it. It had taken weeks to feel her fingers again. 

Her helm made her stomach twist, there was nothing clean or organised about the damage that had been done to it. The metal had been crushed inward from the side, punctured and shredded. At least once stepped on and bent out of shape. 

“It’s ready. It doesn’t want to be this way anymore. It remembers being charged with faith and fury and pride.”

The corner of her mouth flickered with a brief smile and then she glanced up to Cole. “Thin, fleeting, fading… a pyre can be ignited from a single spark. It is good.” Without a word, she nodded to him and closed the sack again, hefting it into her arms and exiting the room. 

“Dagna!”

A clattering filled Undercroft as both smiths startled with the entrance, the door bouncing off the stone wall and swinging closed behind the woman as she entered. “Dagna. I need your help. If you’re not working on anything else right now, that is.”

The dwarf picked up the scattered tools she had knocked over in her surprise and placed them on her table with an uncharacteristically worried frown, “Esra, you look sort of… is everything okay? What can I do?”

“I don’t know if there is anything but you’ve worked wonders before. I have something I need repaired. Armour. It took heavy damage in a battle and I would appreciate it if you could salvage it into being usable again.” As she approached Dagna, Esra slowed to a stop with her arms clutching her burden so tightly that her knuckles whitened. For a second she seemed to want to speak again but instead she held the pieces out in their sack. 

Dagna took the heavy weight and carefully laid it on her workbench, opening the burlap to pull out its contents. The breath she sucked in was reverent but sad as her fingers traced the torn metal. “This is bad, Esra. I can see why you want it though, the craftsmanship is amazing and the quality of the metal is… but this is bad. I have an idea for how to repair this without compromising the integrity of the armour itself, though. It’ll take a few weeks, I’ll have to take it slow so I don’t ruin anything. What did this?”

Esra folded her arms around herself again, feeling far more awkward showing someone the physical evidence than she had telling people the entire story. “Darkspawn. A lot of them. But, it was the last thing someone I cared about gave me. For that reason alone, I would want it back.” 

Already deep in thought, her friend nodded slowly and lifted the helm to turn it over in her small hands, “The Commander has me working on some things too but I’ll keep you updated. I have some ideas. It’s in good hands.”

A lingering relief untangled something in her stomach as Esra walked out of the Undercroft empty handed. It was up to Dagna now, she didn’t have to think about it until much later. There was, however, something else she could tend to if she was going to throw all caution to the wind. 

Elan Ve’mal was in the garden as usual, although she arched a brow at Esra’s approach, “You have such a dire expression. What can I do for you?” Watchfully the elf folded her arms across her chest, the almost calculated examination she gave almost enough to make Esra cringe.

“I need to figure out how to deal with scars, loosen them so they don’t affect my work. My shoulder I think is really tight and the damaged muscle is tearing when I try to use it and making things worse.” The woman had been suspicious that she was hiding facts this entire time so Esra didn’t dance around her question, instead being matter of fact. 

Thin lips pursed as she touched the delicate bone of her jaw, eyes narrowing. “It depends on the severity and age, to be frank. I could always remove it with surgery, it would scar over again but as it healed we could make sure the scars developed more safely. You would have to be very restricted in what you did while it healed, however, and if it is large it may take a while. There are other things we could consider if it’s within reason. I will have to see to make a diagnosis. If you’re serious about accepting this help, come with me and I will look at what we’re dealing with and plan the best course of action.”

Without allowing herself a moment for doubt or second-guessing Esra followed the elven apothecary into a side room on the second level floor surrounding the garden.


	22. A Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once everything is quiet and people are passing each other, going about their duties. Esra is at a loss with nothing to keep her busy and free from troubling thoughts. It is impossible to avoid people when no one has anything to do. Still, sometimes confronting something ends up far less terrifying than one had expected. With a fight expected at Adamant and no idea what will happen in the morning, a few of our heroes pick their favourite lacky and take advantage of the lull to have a mini vacation away from a plague of worries.

“Hey, Esra right?” 

The vaguely familiar voice stopped her as she exited the gardens into the main hall again, confusion flickering over tired features. Still not quite believing her eyes, she waited as Hawke slowed her step and came to a stop in front of her. The woman held out a hand and smiled, waiting till Esra shook it to speak again.

“Varric speaks about you sometimes. Often enough I know it’s bothering him. I’m glad things are working out for you here at Skyhold, enough so that I’m not going to apologise for my part in connecting you to that armour.” Mischief glittered in her blue eyes as her smirk widened into a grin that Esra couldn’t keep herself from half-heartedly returning. “You’re in good hands. I promise. Varric is… a good man, as much as he tries to come off as a scoundrel.” 

An eyebrow raised slightly as Hawke’s words hesitated but Hawke gave nothing else away and Esra asked no questions. “Anyway, all I wanted to say was how much I enjoyed meeting you. If circumstances allowed for more time I would offer to play cards or something sometime but the world seems determined to cease functioning if I get a day’s rest. Have a good day, kid, you’ve earned one from what little I’ve heard. I should hurry up to the war room, we’ve tracked down the Wardens finally, have to give my report. Hopefully this will all be done before Fenris realises I gave him the slip.”

The rogue winked and stepped around her to leave before it occurred to Esra that she literally hadn’t spoken the entire time. Shaking herself, she turned around to watch the woman’s departure, “Hawke.”

With a questioning look, Hawke paused and twisted back around, “Varric told me you met Alistair once. After all of this is said and done, if you want to find me you can send him a note. He can point you in the right direction. If you were serious about that card game.”

Surprise flickered for an instant and then a more relaxed smile replaced it, “Sure. If Varric can’t find you I’ll totally tell the King of Ferelden to call you up. Makes complete sense.” 

Esra finally chuckled although it felt almost unnatural today, “He’s an old friend. It’ll make sense if you think about it. See you later, Hawke.”

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Esra returned to her original plan of heading back into the courtyard only to stop and stumble back swearing. “Cole, I’m going to put a bell on you.”

Despite her dire tone, Cole only beamed, “You still remember me! My name, I am Cole. You are happy now but don’t think about it too hard or you won’t trust it. It is good but small, it needs more.”

For a slow breath Esra simply stared at the boy before her shoulders slumped and she shook her head with a weak smile, “I hope you know only half of what you say ever makes sense. I’ll take it though. Come on, I’m walking outside.”

With Cole at her heel, the pair descended the steps into the courtyard and after that, Esra hadn’t really thought of what to do. Everything hurt. Her eyes were dry and sore, the muscles in her back ached from the apothecary’s rather firm examination. Her mind was whirling with the facts and figures the elven woman had presented her with. 

The depth and severity of her wounds had never fully been described to her by the Orlesian healers her Captain had taken her to. The way Elan’s countenance had paled ever so slightly had said enough but, thankfully, she had kept her face clear of the pity Esra had expected. She had asked no questions and had been determined to try and salvage as much of the muscle around the scars as possible although she was quite honest. Removing some of the scarring to let it heal better might eventually be a necessity and that would make her virtually useless to the Inquisition. 

“Cole, were you following me for a reason?” Briefly she had almost forgotten he was following her but now she paused, facing the boy. 

“Oh, yes. There’s a man, his pain touches yours. Once your friend returns to his castle he will tell him and the man will know where you are.” Cole spoke his rather unsettling words matter of factly and toyed with the brim of his hat.

Her family was dead. That left the Captain, though the idea that he was still alive eight years later left her with a confusing kaleidoscope of emotions. Guilt, relief, pain, even trepidation. Sighing, she shook her head again and kept walking without paying attention to where she was going. This was getting way out of proportion. Overnight she had lost control of this entire situation but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had started unravelling. When her armour had been retrieved? When Alistair had recognised her? By the Maker, maybe it had happened the day Keeper Lanaya had made her leave.

Whether his health permitted it or not, nothing would stop Derrick Mallon from giving her his thoughts on her disappearance to her face, that much she could expect. Nor could she blame him. He had stubbornly kept her alive for almost two years, paid Orlesians good money as well even though he had served in some small part to help Maric get rid of them in the first place. 

Her escape had treated him poorly and well she knew it. She’d been too blinded to even think of how it might affect him and had hoped she would never have the chance to find out. Maybe there was some justice in the world. 

“So, you can feel what he feels, Cole? Would you be able to feel it and tell me when Alistair tells him I’m alive? Or is it not that accurate?” It made her skin crawl to talk about such things but so far Cole had only been a help and those leading the Inquisition trusted him. 

“I think I can. I haven’t tried it before. I will try.” He hesitated but then nodded slowly as he tugged his gloves into a more comfortable position. 

Halfway down the stairs, a grimace twisted her face and she threw her hands up in the air. “I’m avoiding them but I don’t even know how to anymore. Let’s just get it over with. Where are they, Cole?”

“The tavern. They thought you’d decide to come see them and said they would stay put. They didn’t expect you to remember me.” He shuffled sheepishly, ducking his face behind the wide brim of his hat. 

Sighing, she tugged her hair back and took a small leather tie from her pocket and secured what hair still grew. An idle hand brushed the left side of her head and a frown grew more pronounced. She would have to clean it up some soon, the fuzz was getting too long for her comfort and it would begin to look strange growing around the scars. It was easier and cleaner to simply keep her hair shorn on one side and let it grow on the other. 

Dimly she could tell Cole had left to go back to the tavern while she lingered on the stairs, not even listening to herself. Someone stopped next to her but she stared at the gate instead, simply waiting.

“I understand. Maybe not what you have been through, but what you are feeling now. When I was a young girl, I accidentally stopped an assassination. I was happy to do my part but after, it did not matter what I felt. Everyone wanted to put me on a pedestal and expected me to lap up the attention. All I wanted was to be treated as a young recruit.” Cassandra folded her arms over her chest and tilted her head as she watched the incline of the peaks outside of Skyhold’s walls. “And when I said it was overwhelming, the pity started. I grew to detest interacting with others I had never met before because I did not know if I would see awe or sympathy but I wanted neither. Something like the Inquisition is not started by good and righteous people, Melisande. It is started by the wounded and tired who refuse to take any more of the wretchedness of the world. Any of the people waiting for you in that building will understand wanting to just be. Wanting to not be judged or preconceived.”

It was so odd to hear her given name so many times in one day. She hadn’t heard it at all in years. If people were going to keep using it, she would have to take some time to get used to it again. “Everyone keeps telling me their life stories. They don’t have to. I’m not certain if it even helps. I know what I need to do, I tell myself I’m overthinking it and that none of you will react the way I expect. The muscle just locks up and won’t let me move. It’s like I’m going to turn around and suddenly realise that I’m still on that field. That none of this is real. That memory feels more real than this, Cassandra.”

The pair stood watching the workers in the distance building a tower that Esra knew she should be helping with. Putting stones on each other was so much simpler. Closing her eyes, Esra turned and firmly began walking towards the tavern. For once she didn’t flinch when a hand came to a rest on her shoulder. She knew it was Cassandra at her side. 

Krem rose to his feet as they entered, a big grin on his face. “Hey, ever tried…” He caught the arch look on Cassandra’s face and simply pushed the cup into Esra’s startled hand and cleared his throat. “Right, I have no idea what is in that cup and it is definitely nothing that our bosses would disapprove of possessing.” He raised his voice slightly and then winked at them both before raising his own and tapping it to her mug. 

Bull was shaking his head and Varric was laughing as the two waved the women into the back part of the tavern. “That boy needs to learn to keep his illicit alcohols to himself. Or at least not to announce he’s sharing them.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, “I think this once I can look the other way. I am not as strict as you think, Varric. You simply test my patience.” The longer she spoke the higher both of Varric’s brows rose until she sat with a disgusted noise.

“What is this?” With a tone dryer than the deserts of Orlais, the veteran settled into a chair of her own without taking a drink.

Iron Bull leaned back in his chair and yawned before answering, “Chasind Sack Mead. We have a couple laying around for special occasions.”

Esra scowled and shook her head, “Not that. This.” She waved rather vaguely around at the group. “You’re being too… normal. Too…” It was obvious she was struggling for the words to frame her suspicions so Varric held a hand up.

“Nails. Would you prefer it if we each took turns asking if you’re okay and hovering? Or asking you to recount cool battle stories? We knew what you expected and we knew that’s why you might stay away. You’ve been through enough, especially since you’ve gotten here. Let’s consider this a vacation. You do know how to have fun, I hope? We have a mutual acquaintance who doesn’t so I’m a little worried you might not either now.” Varric grinned and spread both hands innocently.

“Ugh.”

Both of her friends, if friends they now seemed to be, suddenly broke into laughter while Cassandra glared at them. “You two are not as funny as you think.”

Varric was wiping tears from his face, “Only because she stole your signature, Seeker. Oh, that was perfect. It really was. She’s a combination of you, Aveline, and Hawke, it’s almost scary.”

“You mentioned her before. Aveline. Vallen? You said she’s still alive.” Choosing to ignore their mirth for a moment, Esra leaned forward slightly to rest her elbows on her knees with a piercing focus in her gaze.

“That is the exact opposite of relaxing and not talking about the past, but alright I can work with that. I’ve got some fun stories about her. She’s Aveline Hendyr, Guard Captain of Kirkwall now. She got to Lothering and met the Hawke family. Hawke’s little brother and Aveline’s husband died getting away from the village though, it was already overrun by the darkspawn. She’d probably want to meet you. Oh, if only you had been witness to her tragic attempt to woo her current husband. Hawke had to step in and take over.” Varric smirked slightly before taking a deep drink of his cup and roughly clearing his throat with a hand coming to rest on his chest.

Esra sat back again and tilted her head back to look thoughtfully at the dusty floor above them. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it. After all this insanity is done with. I don’t know how to keep track of all these people I suddenly know now…” Refocusing, she fixed her attention upon the Iron Bull. “I want to start sparring with the Chargers, but will Stitches be okay with helping me out occasionally? I don’t know him as well as the rest of you do. The apothecary is trying to do something about my left shoulder to loosen it up but I already know I’m going to hurt myself a few times before it’s in working condition again.”

Taken aback, the Qunari blinked once and then shrugged and leaned away to refill his mug. “He should be there. How bad is that shoulder?”

Finally taking a drink, Cassandra had to steady the mug in Esra’s hands while she coughed, making both men grin widely once more. Rasping, she breathed deeply and nodded to Cassandra before straightening, “Well, on my left side everything from my shoulder to my waist got mauled and the Orlesian surgeon I was taken to did what he could but after a few months or a year of rehabilitation I ran off into the Brecilian forest and lived off the land for eight years. Reinjuring it and working through it over and over must have thickened the scar tissue. It wrapped around my ribs and most of my shoulder joint from what Elan said. It goes down to my right hip but that didn’t stiffen the way the rest did.”

“You probably already know this but don’t overwork it, then. Stitches will be there, he doesn’t trust us not to beat each other bloody.” He took a drink of his own, still chuckling slightly at her reaction to the strong alcohol.

Cassandra held up a hand before the conversation could continue and glanced to Varric, “Dwarf. I think some of those stories you mentioned would be welcome. Something to get our minds from what they linger on.”

“It seems I picked the perfect time to join in, if I may. We’re leaving for Adamant in the morning, I could use some time to relax instead of sitting in my office worrying.” Cullen knocked lightly on the wooden beam bracing the top level of the stairs to the second level, a faintly awkward smile on his face. 

“Of course, Commander. Please, take a seat. Although if you are heading into a battle you should not drink.” Cassandra motioned for him to bring a seat over and settle in, scooting her chair over a bit so he was placed between herself and Esra. 

Varric leaned back with a broad grin. “Well… lets see how angry I can make Aveline. She turns as red as her hair if you get her really worked up. So one day we walked into the guard barracks and…”


	23. A Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Varric have left with the Inquisitor, Solas, and Blackwall, following Stroud and Hawke to Adamant upon finding the Grey Wardens deluded into building a demon army for the Venatori. Left behind, work continues and to avoid worrying about the impending battle's outcome, Cassandra reaches out to the brooding Melisande Esra. Iron Bull joins in and convinces Esra to try sparring with a living opponent for the first time since her self-imposed exile.

The sun was rising slowly over the mountains, dim rays falling upon a form sitting on the high walls with a mug in hand, piercing eyes watching the departure of a column of soldiers through a gap in the battlements. Cullen and Varric were with them. Hawke and Varric had argued for about ten minutes before the woman had crushed him in a hug and given up on her attempt to convince him that fighting at her side wasn’t necessary. 

Along with Varric, the Inquisitor had taken Solas for his knowledge of the demons they would be facing and Blackwall as he was the only sane Grey Warden aside from the one named Stroud with the impressive moustache. Hopefully the two could talk some sense into any left uncorrupted. 

The knowledge that Corypheus had managed to enslave the Grey Wardens along with the mages and a few remnant factions of the Templars whom they hadn’t been able to rescue from Therinfal Redoubt had cast a pall over the refugees of Skyhold. It was… a sobering realisation. Those who knew of the Seekers and had heard rumours of their disappearance were even quieter than the rest, especially if Cassandra walked into the room. 

None of her affectionately enforced support group had made any mention of her fighting yet. She wasn’t sure if they ever would. Sparring had come up a few times, but in the way one would discuss weather or roof thatching. It gnawed at her anyway. 

Sighing, she drank deeply from the tea which was no longer hot. It had taken almost an hour to ask Solas if he was willing to share. Her trepidation had been surprising to him and he had been happy to lend her some. He had thanked her for the polite phrasing of her request and told her he was not, in fact, a two-headed dragon and thus could be expected to be reasonable. He then continued to say he detested tea but if she ever wished to sit and converse over a cup it would be welcomed. 

It was the first time she had spoken to the apostate and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. Perhaps a bit distant at first, she found him agreeable and even sarcastically amusing after a conversation. Let alone well learned and far more likely to share his stories than Vivienne. While she owed the woman her life, the two had not spoken much since and it seemed to suit them both fine.

She didn’t feel like Melisande anymore. It felt strange to have people call her that. Melisande had been proud, energetic. She had loved life and loved sharing it with people. Laughed frequently, held a healthy respect for a fight but never backed down from it. Esra was… what did she even think of herself? Exhausted, angry, defeated. She still managed to smile, but she kept everything guarded. Hid herself. 

Idly she scratched at her shoulder, tilting her head as the column continued its way to battle. At Haven when battle had happened she had failed entirely to maintain her composure. These people, most had little experience fighting and some were so young the Fifth Blight was barely a memory yet they held their heads high. Surely she, with the victories and training she had under her belt, should strive to do half as well. She had been a leader among men. Reduced to something she couldn’t even admit to being because she disliked it so much. 

“Having an internal crisis?” Cassandra leaned against the wall next to her, watching the procession as well. 

“I should be out there.” It was no longer a question in her mind. She had a responsibility to uphold and she had not been doing so. The guilt churned nastily in her stomach.

The Seeker shrugged and turned slightly to face her, her hip holding her up against the battlements. “Not everyone is called to war. Some are and then their paths change. Nothing is static in the world. However, the Commander expressed very similar feelings recently. He told me you know about his lyrium withdrawal.”

More than a little confused, the veteran tore her eyes from the distant soldiers and focused on her companion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“The Commander felt if he did not return to taking Lyrium that he could not give the Inquisition his best. We all know that is not true. We also know that what you give is your best effort as well, Melisande, whether it is fighting or not.” Beckoning for Esra to follow her, Cassandra turned and followed the stairs down to the courtyard again, the early morning just enough to see by. “What do you want to do, my friend? How do you wish to see yourself?”

The woman folded her arms across her chest with a frown, “You can’t think it that simple, Cassandra?”

Calmly, the warrior returned the annoyed glare she was given. “Why must it be so hard? There is no reason to concern yourself with ability or past in this question. Without a single thought to anything else, with no hesitation, what is the first thing you wish to do with your life that comes to your mind.”

“Fight. Prove I can.” Even as she said the words, her shoulders slumped, “But I can’t Cassandra. I just can’t.”

“Says you.” Before the scoffed statement fully registered, Cassandra had taken a training sword and tossed it at her much the way Cullen once had. Forced to catch it to spare herself a wooden sword to the gut, she stared at the woman. “What do you feel when you hold that?”

Slowly her eyes dropped to the hilt she held in both hands. Cassandra had gone right to the two-handed weapon, something she knew Esra was familiar with. Preferred, even. “Ice in my veins. So cold it makes my arms ache. Makes my chest ache too. Why?”

Cassandra continued past her question, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. “Past that. Stop focusing on that feeling, what lies beneath it?”

Briefly, all Esra did was stare at her confounding friend. “Beneath…” Sighing, the breath ruffled her bangs to her right, she looked back down at the weapon. “The balance is off. The wood is a bit dry. I’m not sure what you want from me, Cassandra.” 

Without saying a word, Cassandra pulled Esra into the ring and placed her before a dummy. “Swing it at that and tell me what is wrong with the balance.”

Resisting a growl, she hefted the sword to strike the defenceless dummy. The strike pulled at her left shoulder and made the tip of her weapon drop a bit too low. “It’s a wooden stick, Cassandra. Everything is off. Weight, distribution, counterweight, even width and length a bit.”

Somehow the warrior smiled at her growing irritation, which simply added to it. “Do your arms still feel cold?”

“No but my back is on fire, what is the point of this useless…” As it hit her, Esra stopped mid-sentence and physically leaned back from the Seeker to stare down at the sword. 

“You say you cannot. Your mind still knows how to, and that simply proved it. You are the only thing holding yourself back and it is not impossible to defeat yourself as you just did. Stop saying that and use that keen mind to find a way around it.” This time it was Cassandra who folded her arms, the patient expression sharpening into something far more demanding. “You want to fight. You want to prove yourself. Do so. Only you can.”

Deeply frowning, Esra rested the sword tip against the packed earth and leaned on the sword in thought. “I’ve never been able to just… refocus like that before. I suppose I haven’t ever… tried.”

Cassandra nodded and relaxed slightly when Esra didn’t immediately get defensive, “It probably will not work all the time, unless you get good at it. Which will require practice. Your back is the only legitimate concern I have if you decide to return to the front line.”

“Mine as well.” Iron Bull leaned against the fence post, watching the way she moved. Straightening, he came into the circle and Cassandra backed away to watch as the Qunari approached. “Feel steady enough to spar? I want to get a decent look at how your shoulder pulls.” 

Spar with the Iron Bull? The very thought had her mouth dry as she debated backing away. He wasn’t moving any closer nor reaching for a weapon but the idea alone made her hands clench on the hilt and her back tighten. She was freezing, she was going to freeze up. A darkness inched into the edges of her vision and she realised she was holding her breath. Cassandra had taken a step back to her side but Bull had lifted a hand for her to stop and was giving Esra that same penetrating examination that he had when they had first met. 

How badly did she want this? She had told Cassandra that her place was in the fight but did she want that enough to force through this? 

If she could just move one arm or leg before she passed out, maybe she could breathe again. Finally, the demands she was making of her limbs processed and the tip of the sword lifted a few inches. Her heart was racing and a wave of dizziness wracked her as she sucked in a breath and felt the first pulse of blood back through her body. 

Gritting her teeth, she lifted it higher and saw the slow nod the Qunari gave her in return. Turning, he pulled another training sword out. “You lose control, don’t worry about it. You can’t hurt me with that thing. You come out of it, I don’t care what you see, try to keep moving. Take whatever you feel and use it, push with it. The longer you can go, the more you’ll believe it. The easier next time will be.”  
Bull aimed for the right, trying not to trigger anything from the left. It only helped a bit, but she couldn’t deny that she held on longer because of it. In the empty courtyard, it didn’t take long for the noise to get attention. Krem had come out with a broad grin and then taken Cassandra’s place while she entered the tavern, spotting the pair. She had come back with a blanket, a jug of water and a cup, and Cole. 

After a few testing altercations, her frame began to unlock and her movements eased but she could read faint concern as he watched her left carefully. Swiftly the sore muscle heated and began to complain along the back of her shoulder and ribs. Trying to change her stance and swings seemed to help but pulled some of her attention away from his counters. 

The hit to the left of her ribs was entirely accidental. Nor was it, truthfully, all that painful, but he knew she was gone when she regained her balance and lunged with a far wilder swipe of the wooden great sword. As the Bull blocked it, the strength behind it surprised him, pushing him back a step. Re-evaluating, he set his jaw and met her next attack.

Less than five minutes later he knew she was wearing down enough from the full-on fight that the sparring match had devolved into to begin registering what was going on. Both opponents were sweating and had drawn a crowd of onlookers both worried and amazed. The inhuman snarl was fading from her face, a grey pallor replacing it, but when she met his eye he shook his head and took aim again. Swallowing back bile and desperately trying to ignore the faces around them, Esra’s next block was still weaker with a shake to her hands. 

“Is it pain or emotion?” Bull’s voice was low, just for her ears, as they circled again and caught their breath. 

“Both maybe. Back hurts but it’s an ache, not stabbing or sharp.” The unsteady rasp in her own voice made her grimace.

“Can you keep going? It’s been about twenty minutes, give or take a few.” 

The fear was trying to slink back into her chest, a bright spark of ice creeping through her lungs and threatening to start her hyperventilating again. This time the snarl that curled her lips back from her teeth was frustration only as she lifted the sword and lunged only to slip low and use her leg as a counterweight to spin behind him and slash. He barely managed to block it in time but the grin he gave her matched the rising sun now behind him.

It was perhaps only two or three minutes later when Esra felt her arm simply slump and the pain spiked. It pulled her swing far down to the left and only a quick shift prevented Bull from getting smacked in the leg. Carefully he reached out and took the sword away, stepping closer and dipping his head. “Do you need help?”

Everything felt like motion was slowed as she lifted her head and looked around, feeling more exhausted than she could recall. It made her head throb as her right hand pushed her hair back. Considering his words, the warrior turned slightly at the waist and tried to take a step towards the gate of the ring only for Bull’s arm to slip around her waist as her left leg buckled. An instant later, Cassandra had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and the two of them half carried her to sit by the outside of the fence.

Quiet murmurs echoed through the now quiet air but Krem and the Chargers stepped up to shoo people away to their stations or the tavern. Cassandra crouched down and pressed a cool cup into her right hand, while Bull stepped back to allow Stitches to replace him. Steady hands took her left arm and lifted it as Cassandra helped her drink, the Charger’s surgeon firmly tested the muscle along her shoulder and ribs to feel for any abnormal pulling. “It’s all moving the way it should, Chief, but there’s resistance. I’ll speak to the apothecary she’s been seeing, it might be releasing on its own.”

Cole crouched in front of her, simply watching her, as Cassandra continued to help her take occasional sips of water. Something still felt disconnected and she couldn’t get past the numbness. “If you take it and look at it now, it’ll all be okay. You did it.” He murmured his words softly, reaching out to touch her forehead. He nodded as he pulled his hand back and the wounded sound that left the woman had Bull returning to her side.

Esra felt her entire body curl over itself as her vision began to swim and she tried to choke back another sob. They wracked her body harder than her nightmares ever had. Two pairs of arms helped her up again and then she was lifted against a heavy chest. Bull conferred quietly with Cassandra, “Too far?”

The Seeker shook her head, “This is cleansing, not broken. Still, she might take ill if we stand around here. The Commander set up a cot for her in his office, with him gone no one will disturb her there. Leliana is taking his letters until he returns from Adamant. Perhaps the Chargers could guard the doors. It will be warmer and more secure than taking her to the tavern or the barracks.”

Slowly the pair made their way to the office through the tavern, joined by Krem, Dalish, Stitches, and Grim. “I can take it from here, Chief. She got you good a few times, should probably check them out.” As they neared the office, Krem held out his arms and took the distraught woman from the Charger’s leader. 

“Try to let her sleep as long as you can, Krem. Let someone know if you all need anything.” Bull nodded to his second in command before he vanished with his senseless burden. Dalish took up a post at the door from Solas’ room, Stitches and Grim taking the doors on the walls. 

Cassandra sighed and folded her arms before turning to walk back towards the tavern with the Ben-Hassrath spy. “I think we may have finally gotten through to her, Bull. It would have been better if Varric and Cullen were here, they seem to calm her better than we do.”

“Krem’s good for that. She’ll be okay with him. I hope you’re right though, it’s hard to tell yet. Tonight, we’ll know for sure and be able to decide how often we can push her like this. Think she’ll be able to fight?”

“Of course, Bull. The only one who doubts it is she. This will fix that. Between Stitches and the apothecary, her back will heal enough in little time. Another two months and, if the war is still going strong, I imagine she might be able to start joining small excursions. Perhaps with Templar support. They’ve been going to the villages and helping push back the mage’s incursions throughout rural Ferelden and Orlais.” Tiredly she rubbed at her eyes with one hand, “I will admit I was sceptical but the three of you have done well getting her as far as you have.”

Bull shrugged, “She’s doing all the work. She wanted the help, just didn’t trust it. Here’s hoping.”


	24. Return From Adamant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks have passed and letters have been scarce but it is learned that victory was won at Adamant and the army is on its return. Any day now it could enter the gates and in the meantime those who remained, including Esra, have trained and continued construction on their mountaintop fortress. Something has Leliana and Cassandra anxious, however, and the nerves are trickling down through the ranks the longer it takes for their heroes to appear.
> 
> *Thank you for bearing with me. I'll have the short story up soon, I apologise again for the delay in posting. Thank you as well for helping me pass 300 views, I appreciate all of you!

“You’re going to have to choose. The muscle will already be damaged by the process of breaking up this much scar tissue, if you return to work and keep sparring as well, there is no telling what that exertion could do. If you want to fight, commit to it. The workmen will understand and there are plenty of refugees to take your place or else they wouldn’t have made it this long without you already.” 

How an elf could look so menacing, Esra would never figure it out. Maybe it was because Elan’s glare reminded her frequently of an irate wolf. 

Then again, she had also developed a personal understanding of how dangerous the woman’s hands could be after laying on a table and suffering through the process of breaking apart scars by hand. The apothecary picked sections and worked it with her hands until it began to crack apart, each day going a bit further. It hurt like hell but after weeks of it she could feel an improvement in how tight her shoulder was so she was not going to chicken out. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It just feels like abandoning them. I’ll let Sherice know today.” Esra winced as something popped audibly along her sore rib cage. The pain had the benefit, at least, of distracting her from how embarrassing the first few days had been. People had started talking about the labourer who fought with Bull and his Chargers and the Seeker and then cried afterward most days. Not when any of those people were around, of course, that would be ridiculous. Cassandra told her to ignore it, to not let it slow down her progress…

“It isn’t abandoning them. It’s defending them. You worry too much about what people’s opinions of you are. Focus on yourself, you’ve suffered enough for others, proof of that is literally carved into your skin.” There was a pause as the woman braced Esra’s shoulder and shifted it to move the muscle and bone into a different position. “I’d be interested in speaking to the surgeons who managed to patch these wounds. Not many would have survived this.”

Esra grew quiet at the comment. She had no memory of those people but it was likely Elan would have the opportunity to ask the Captain any day now. It had been almost a month since Alistair’s departure.

Letters had arrived from scouts stationed near Adamant when the fighting had started. No one was exactly sure how the three to four week trek had been accomplished in just about two, but most assumed it was by the aid of mages or the Maker’s providence. By the time they had receive those, it was easy enough to assume that the fight was already over. 

Elan stepped back and rubbed the tension out of her own hands. “Alright, I’m stopping for today. There’s some decent expansion in the tissue and I don’t want to push it too far and tear something farther than it can readily heal. To be honest, I’m surprised it’s responding as well as it is to my tactics, I would have sworn it would require surgery with as extensive as it is.”

“It’s probably from staying in shape and keeping the muscle active. Stretching as well. My best guess, at least. Thank you, Elan. It hasn’t felt like this in years.” Esra let the elf help her gingerly off the table. A day didn’t exist when she wasn’t so sore that she could barely stand straight between sessions with the apothecary and sparring with Cassandra or the Chargers.

As she made her way down the stairs, she wasn’t sure what she dreaded more: sparring with Cassandra or sparring with Bull. Bull hit and pushed harder, but Cassandra was indomitable. The woman wouldn’t stop until Esra couldn’t get up from the ground, testing her mental fortitude as well as her physical strength. The Seeker had no problems bringing up Ostagar or challenging her views mid-fight to trigger a loss of control that worried Bull, but the more it had happened, Esra realised she was expecting it. Lately when Cassandra did so, the veteran got angry but that snap never came and she could maintain control. Cassandra had called it de-sensitising. Removing oneself from the emotions connected to the memory in a way. 

Drinks were still demanded on Cassandra’s tab after each session, however. 

Krem was waiting for her at the edge of the sparring ring, arms folded and a bit of a grin on his face, “You look like my gran. Should get you a cane so you can hobble.”

“Put it in my hand, I dare you. We’ll see how many bruises you have before you can get it away again. Where is everyone?” With a grimace, Esra tried to straighten up a bit further, the muscle objecting wearily. 

“Cassandra is speaking with Leliana about the letters they’ve been getting from Adamant again, apparently it has the Nightingale pretty flustered. And Bull is sleeping. There was a refugee camp attacked nearby late last night. We would never have known but this terrified guy managed to find us and once the guards at the gate calmed him down they got us. I’ve never seen so many demons, Bull was pissed. So, we were there all night. Only a few people made it, unfortunately, and they’re all in the surgeon’s care.” Krem yawned heavily at that point, rubbing at his cheek and trying to shake it off. 

Esra shuddered, “I don’t even want to think about how many demons it would take to rattle Bull. You should go get some sleep as well, Krem. I can entertain myself.” She shoved him slightly with a grin, “And don’t you dare tell either of them I’m ok with a respite for one day. I know where to find you if they double the difficulty next time we spar.”

“You couldn’t beat me up, you like me too much. Take it easy, I know you’ve had a hard time of it lately. And if those morons see you’re alone and try to start something, bring it to the tavern. Bull and I will set them straight.” Clapping a hand on her right shoulder, something all of them seemed to do instinctively, he departed from the chilly courtyard. 

It had been so long since she had any time to herself that, for a while, Esra simply sat on the fence while a few others tried their hand at practicing and watched the rise of the morning into early afternoon. She wasn’t sure what else to do. 

Eventually, a guard approached with an older man following close behind him. “Excuse me,” The confusion on his face was obvious even without his hesitant tone. “I’ve got a man looking for Lieutenant Esra, and you’re the only person we’ve heard of with that name but…”

“That’s me. Don’t worry about it, I haven’t used that title in a long time. I know who he is, thanks.” Esra pinched the bridge of her nose and then lifted her head to smile faintly at the suddenly relieved guard. The curiosity was as impossible to miss as his confusion had been. Well… she wasn’t going to keep it hidden forever. “You might want to get out of the way though. He’s angry with me.”

Rising from the fence and taking a few calculated steps away from it and the guard, she barely had time to turn and face the Captain before the bloody sky hit her and she ended up on her back. As the ringing faded, she took stock. Nothing had broken but damn if it didn’t hurt. Curled on the ground, holding her jaw, she spat once and saw blood but not much. Testing her teeth, nothing was loose. People had scrambled back in shock and at least one cheered who may or may not have been drunk. Retired Captain Derrick Mallon of His Majesty’s Royal Guard was rubbing his knuckles with an unreadable scowl as he waited for her to pick herself up.

“You going to hit me again if I stand or should I just get comfortable down here?” The words came a little muddy but the pain was receding a bit.

Instead of answering, he stepped over her and hauled her from the dirt with both hands only to crush her in an embrace that made her wheeze. Nothing would prevent her from returning it, despite pain and a lack of air in her lungs.

Where was Cole? She’d known the Captain was going to show up at some point once he’d heard from Alistair, but… had Cole followed the army to Adamant? She couldn’t recall… only that he had said he would try to warn her when he knew for certain of Mallon’s arrival. 

The guard was watching cautiously but she waved him off and he obeyed, rubbing the back of his neck as if he too couldn’t handle the change of emotions. Too much drama for his day, probably.  
“You’re grey, Mallon.” 

“Are you trying to give me another reason to beat your ungrateful ass, soldier?”

“Actually, today was supposed to be my day off from getting my ass handed to me. Your timing was impeccable.”

The man snorted and finally released her, stepping back but keeping his hands on her shoulders as if she might run off if he stopped. “And to think I missed you, I should have remembered that you’re nothing but sass. What in the name of Andraste’s sacred pyre possessed you, girl? It’s been eight years. Last time I saw you, you were still having days you couldn’t remember your own name. Leaving like that was the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Esra slumped slightly and then sighed before gesturing to the tavern. “Drinks are going to be necessary for me at least. I wiggled my way out of this conversation with Alistair but that won’t be an option this time.”

A few people near windows went quiet as they came in, watching as carefully as they could while trying (and failing) not to be overt. “No more fighting, promise.” She raised her hands peaceably before shaking her head at them all and moving to the bar. 

“Melisande…”

“I’m getting to it. This is just as hard for me as it is for you, if not harder.” A frown followed her words before she melted onto a stool. “That’s unfair. I’m sorry, Captain. I can’t even begin to remember everything you did to bring me back from that place.”

Grudgingly he sat, his arms folding defensively over his chest and his own face as unhappy as hers. “Damn right. I should have been there, kid, I know it. I just wanted to save even one of you if I could, you were all family. I just want to know why you left.”

Esra’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the back of her neck and resisted a rapidly throbbing headache. “I couldn’t handle it. Even now, everywhere I turn I still see what happened, but back then it was the only thing I could see. Feel. Even smell. I wasn’t running from you, I was running from me and it didn’t work. So, I hid and tried to make it all not exist. Which only worked halfway. You wanted to understand, but you couldn’t and I couldn’t explain. You weren’t real, I couldn’t see you. If anyone touched me or came in the room they were darkspawn or one of Loghain’s men trying to push me back into the fight or hold me down. If anything touched me it hurt. Even bed sheets. For months, the only thing I could feel was cold terror. I don’t even know how long it was because I can’t remember most of that first two years. It all just… blurred together into this ball of nastiness. I still can’t believe it was two years.”

He paled and seemed to want to speak but she pressed on. “It’s just… a little faded now. It was too sharp before, I couldn’t get past it. With the thoughts dulled with time, I can push them to the side and remind myself of where I am when it gets too much. I still don’t really have the words to make people understand, which is frustrating as hell.” 

A movement of colour caught her eye and a brief glance had one eyebrow climbing. Dorian slipped out of the door as quietly as he could. Swallowing back a grin, she tucked that away to think about it later once this was done. “Do I wish I had handled it better? Yes. But it wasn’t possible back then.”

A few steady breaths passed as he sat and watched her before he stood from his stool again, wrapping her in another tight hug. She could still breathe but that made it no less desperate than the first. “What can I do, Mel? I want to help. You’re all I have left. You’re like one of my own kids.”

With one hand resting on his back, she felt the anger drain out of him even as he added gruffly, “I’m still pissed at you, though. I couldn’t breathe when I heard all of you had died with the King, then I got you back only for you to leave without a single word for near a decade.”

“I know. I earned it. I’m… getting there though. Slowly. You’d like Cassandra. You’d like pretty much everyone I’ve met. Not Solas though, you get annoyed when people go all mystic on you. The army should be back any day now, if you wanted to stay for a bit. Your wife might get mad if I stole you though.” 

He chuckled faintly as he sat back and finally looked around at where he was at, “She knew when she read the letter that I was going to be a while. You grew on her too on your calmer days. I think she knew that she couldn’t understand the kind of pain it takes to drive someone that insane. Mel, it’s so good to have you almost back. I was so worried I wouldn’t recognise you when I got here but… it’s still you. Damn, if it isn’t still you.”

Her head tilted with the odd statement but she nodded slowly. Alistair had not known her long before Ostagar, but this man here had nearly raised her. It begged the question if she had changed as much as she felt she had.

A hand reached out to grip her shoulder, earnest eyes searching hers out. “You’re still you, in there. You’ve got that pain wrapped around you but it doesn’t change what you are on the simplest level. Having faith in yourself isn’t believing when you think you know who you are. It’s when you’ve been beaten and shown your faults and failures and you still can believe. Make no mistake, it’s the hardest thing on the Maker’s earth to look in at yourself and then stand up and say you don’t care because you still know who you are.”

Gingerly she rested a hand on top of his where it still steadied her. “I don’t know why but it means more to hear you say it than anyone else who has.”

He scoffed and grinned finally as he sat back to reach for his drink. “Because you’re my girl. My kick ass, far too serious, sometimes scary but always loyal kid. Because bringing you into the fold when I did helped you discover and build who you want to be and I was there to watch all of it with an old man’s pride. I know you, Melisande Esra. No darkspawn or loss can change the fact that you, me, and the Guard, yes even your bull-headed brother, are joined in a way not many get to experience. I imagine the Grey Wardens have something similar.”

“I heard bull-headed?” 

Esra was already fighting a smirk but she laughed and waved Bull over as he folded his arms and arched a heavy brow at them both. “You’re laughing but from what I heard, this guy here knocked you flat with one hit. The entire side of your face is red.”

The Captain at least had the grace to look suddenly rather apologetic, but Esra answered for him, “It was… the conclusion of an eight year long argument. I earned it, I promise. Bull, this is my Captain, Derrick Mallon. Captain, this is the Iron Bull. He’s been helping the Inquisition in the war with his mercenary group and he’s been a… friend.” It took a bracing moment to say the word out loud. She’d been thinking it with growing frequency and could recall Alaric, Cullen, Lanaya, Cassandra, and Varric all calling her friend but she had never used the word herself for anyone alive but Alistair. It knocked the smile from her face as she realised that she’d considered only the dead friends till now. 

Bull noticed the shift and winked at her slightly before holding a hand out to the Captain to shake his, “You trained a really good fighter with this one. I bet you’re proud.”

Mallon’s eyes were wide slightly and it took a moment for him to shake off his shock, although his face grew a little sheepish as he shook Bull’s hand and realised how much smaller his own was. “I am. Forgive me, I’ve never met a Qunari before.”

The giant laughed and shook his head, “You probably have and didn’t realise it. Not all Qunari are born Qunari. Think she can get back into the fight?”

Grey eyes flashed back up to the pair with a slight scowl but there wasn’t a moment’s hesitation as the Captain responded, “She never got out of it. Tactical retreat is sometimes necessary to manage injuries and regroup. I have no doubt she’ll make them wish you all had never put a weapon back in her hand.”

“The army is back!” A worker gripped the doorframe and shouted the words in excitedly before disappearing but his exclamation was soon unnecessary. The level of excitement and noise outside was becoming obvious. 

Bull nodded his head towards the door and smirked before heading towards it himself. It had emptied in moments, some chairs knocked flat. Adamant was the first major victory since arriving in Skyhold, and a victory it was with the Inquisitor riding in while standing in her Forder’s stirrups with both fists in the air. 

They were less. They were bloodied. 

But they came back and the Venatori hadn’t.


	25. What Comes Next

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull and Esra track down their friends after they return from Adamant to ensure they're safe and to gather what information they can about what happened. Cullen, Varric, and Hawke join them, though the Inquisitor has hidden away to recover and neither Solas nor Blackwall wished to be bothered. The three piece together events as well as they can with a few good drinks to help and together they discuss the next step.
> 
> ** I am so so sorry for the delay. Work nonsense happened. I'm finishing a second post as well and if it isn't up tonight it will be in the morning.

“There, I see him. Over there with Hawke.”

In the disorder that their re-entry to the castle had become, nearly all their friends had managed to hide away. After some effort, Esra and Bull had found Solas in his office, Blackwall in the stables, Lavellan locked in her room unresponsive to Leliana and Josephine’s worry, and Cullen pacing the walls where he had joined them in searching for Varric. Cassandra had returned to Skyhold’s halls to try and coax Lavellan out of hiding or at least determine what the problem was.

Esra held a hand out in front of Bull and Cullen, stopping them a few yards down the wall from where the pair were talking to themselves. “Wait, they might not want to be interrupted.” She hesitated, rolling onto the balls of her feet once before considering turning back. She had wanted to see Varric, make sure the dwarf was safe, but now she had done so. Planning on what she would do after she had done so had not been her first thought although it likely should have been.

Varric made her decision for her, waving the group over before anyone could break the awkward silence. The veteran let her arm fall and the trio slowly made their way to join Hawke and Varric. Hawke looked exhausted but there was a steely glint in her eye, “Esra. I think our card game will have to wait a while. I need to go to Weisshaupt, figure out what in the Maker’s name the Wardens there are doing. Inform them that their outposts in Ferelden and Orlais have been corrupted and mostly destroyed.”

“Her Inquisitorialness allowed the surviving Wardens to remain and help fight the corrupted Templars and the Darkspawn stragglers we’ve been seeing but she’s ordered them to avoid the Venatori.” Varric shrugged and leaned against the wall next to him with a hand rubbing at his tired face. “They have no superiors left however, so they’re answering to Lavellan, Cullen, or Ser Barris until Hawke can get the Anders to send some higher ups.”

Cullen nodded quietly, face drawn, and accepted their words without comment. Bull folded his arms, “Lots of demons then? Are there any Warden mages left?”

Hawke grimaced, “A handful of the more squeamish fools who were resistant to the idea of killing their own. They were either young and overwhelmed or they just couldn’t stomach the slaughter. Had we not arrived when we did they would have either been forced to complete it or killed. The warriors and rogues had better luck, breaking off in groups to guard each other and barricade rooms when they came to their senses and decided this was a terrible idea.”

“Clarel figured it out at the last second and chased the Tevinter through Adamant but he called up that blighted dragon-demon craziness and it almost bit her clear in half. She wounded it before she died at least. Cullen and the others took the Tevinter asshole captive.” Varric straightened and sighed, “Drinks, just a few Hawke. We all need them after that mess.”

Esra listened to the discussion but something wasn’t adding up. She could understand demoralisation from the loss of the Wardens and the aftermath of battle but there was something her friends couldn’t shake. Something not even the Inquisitor wanted to deal with right now. She had never failed to discuss reports before, not even after the destruction of Haven.

“Varric.”

“Drinks, Nails. I need them.”

The walk to the tavern was long and mostly silent, Hawke’s arm resting on Varric’s shoulder and a faint limp in her right leg that made her lean on him slightly. There was crying underscoring the celebration throughout the courtyard. Those finding out their family or friends had not returned with the rest of the army. More names for Leliana’s memorial. It left a bitter taste in the back of her mouth and a drive to ensure that as many as possible wouldn’t have to feel this again. If she’d been there, perhaps a few less voices would be raised in pain. Or maybe Dagna would have finished her armour just in time to bury her in it. 

At this point, Cabot was never surprised to see the ragged bunch in his tavern but he must have seen them coming or expected them because he already had several tankards out on the bar waiting. Cullen paid the tab this time with murmured thanks and even took a drink for himself without hesitation. Had the battle gone that awry? 

They all sat in Bull’s corner, and for once the Commander was the one who began talking first. “By the time we arrived at Adamant the demons had full control of the compound and we lost a number of people simply trying to breach the walls. Hawke managed to get farther than us and was instrumental in clearing the walls enough for us to get a foothold…”

Hawke smirked and toasted the air with her drink, “Has Varric mentioned that time I took on the Arishok in solo combat? A few pride demons are nothing after that.”   
Varric snorted and almost choked on his drink. “I can’t tell if you’re serious, Hawke.”

“Always, Varric.” She winked at her best friend and Cullen gave a small smile.

“Well, after we got in just in time to talk some sense into the Warden Commander and the Archdemon or whatever it is attacked, it fell into the bridge and destroyed it in its fall. Hawke, Warden Stroud, the Inquisitor, Varric, Solas, and Warden Blackwall were all still on it as it fell. There was a flash of light and we were certain they were lost to us.” Cullen sat back and raked a hand through his hair. 

Bull arched a brow suddenly, “They seem very alive, although I haven’t seen Stroud yet. How did you manage that miracle?”

Varric grimaced and tilted his drink back to finish it before he answered, “Lavellan tore open a rift in a panic and we all fell into it. Into the Fade. We thought there were a lot of demons at Adamant, that was nothing.”

The Qunari almost turned green as he leaned away, “Suddenly I’m a lot happier I didn’t go with you all. I fought enough demons while you were gone. Going into the ass end of demon town doesn’t sound fun.”

The weak smile faded from Hawke’s face, “Stroud didn’t make it. Biggest demon I’ve ever seen was between us and the exit, Stroud led it away. He… was a good man. What Wardens should be. What all of the others except for your Blackwall failed to be.”

Silence descended again as Cabot refilled Varric and Hawke’s drinks. “Saw the Divine. Clear as day. Don’t know if it was a ghost or some spirit who was inspired by her. Still, wouldn’t have ever made it out of there without her.” Varric cleared his throat awkwardly. 

Cullen picked up the explanation again to prevent Varric or Hawke from struggling to gloss over details of what had undoubtedly been a tense venture. “They stepped out of another tear that Clarel and the Venatori had opened already and shocked us all, then the Inquisitor closed it and brought the remaining Wardens in line. This was a mixed victory at the very least. Anyway, how were things here?”

Esra shrugged, “The same as always. A refugee camp got attacked by demons and Bull took the Chargers out to teach them some manners. Alistair passed word on to my Captain who decided to show up and sock me in the face so hard I saw stars for ten minutes.”

Varric blinked at her dry tone and then slapped his knee with an abrupt laugh, “Oh, I see. All the good stuff happens when I’m gone. I hope he’s still here.”

Bull shook his head, careful not to knock his great horns against the wall. It already had a few dents in the wood. “You think that was good. Should’ve seen this kid fighting Cassandra the other day. Took the Seeker right off her feet. Best tackle I’ve ever seen.”

A wince crossed her face as Cullen and Varric both looked at her like she had grown a second head, though Hawke grinned widely. The Commander regained his sense first, though his words were hesitant. “And… why, pray tell, were you and Seeker Pentaghast fighting?”

She glared slightly at Bull, who returned it with a grin, and then waved a hand dismissively. “He’s misrepresenting facts to encourage a reaction that will amuse him. We were not, in fact, fighting. Much. The entire time, at least. She and Bull talked me into returning to sparring practice while you were off at Adamant. Elan Ve’mal has been doing some work on my damaged shoulder as well. It isn’t nearly as fantastic as one might thing. I’ve gained a reputation around Skyhold only for being a bit mental and overemotional.”

“Hey now, like Krem told you. Those people don’t know the causes. Whether it’s bad memories or physical pain from old wounds, you’ve got every right to cry. It gets the bad shit out of your system. Holding it in is what caused all the damage we’ve been trying to fix in the first place.” Iron Bull nudged her chair with his foot before lazily taking a drink from his tankard.

Cullen and Varric seemed a bit at a lost once more, but Varric’s response came first this time. He grinned and rose to his feet, holding out a hand to Esra and waiting for her to hesitantly take it. He pulled her into a rare hug rather than shaking her hand. “Told you you could do it, Nails.”

Esra shuffled awkwardly as the dwarf let go and moved to go order something specific, suddenly in a much better mood. Hawke arched a brow and nodded to her, “I get it. He’s like that. First time I got a hug I had no clue how to handle it either.”

Sighing and returning the nod, Esra returned to her seat. “So, is Lavellan alright?”

“On the return to Skyhold she shut down for a bit but Blackwall seemed to get through to her. They seem to be close. I imagine she’s a bit overwhelmed by the loss of life, the travel through the Fade, and recovering the memory she had lost of the explosion at the Conclave. Amongst many other things she has every reason to be overcome by. Sometimes we need a reminder that she’s as fragile as we all are and can’t handle it all alone.” The Commander frowned faintly, the expression tugging at the scarred corner of his lips. 

Several tired nods responded to his words but Varric was hardly daunted anymore as he returned to his seat and held a bottle out to Esra. “She’ll be fine, she’s tough. Heroes have to be made of something the rest of us aren’t or they’d never last. We wouldn’t have stories like the Warden or Hawke.”

Hawke scoffed at her friend, “Really, Varric? The Warden saved Ferelden, the Inquisitor is saving Thedas. I started two wars in Kirkwall and did whatever felt right while flipping everyone both fingers without shame when they got annoyed with me.”

Varric laughed at her caustic response, the grin on her own face shameless. “Hawke, everyone needs that kind of hero in the mix. It’d get boring if everyone was an honourable, self-sacrificing role model.”

“Ah, good to know my chaos is necessary for the world to revolve.” She hit her cup against Varric’s and then downed the rest of it. “Let Bethany, Aveline, and Fenris know I’m headed to Weisshaupt but be a pal and wait maybe two or three weeks to give me a head start. That way I can cause mayhem and get a foot hold in the mess, know what we’re in for, before they get there. I’m going to get what little sleep I can.”

As she left, Varric nodded and Bull grinned, “Mayhem. Mayhem is good. Gets the blood circulating.”

“So… what’s next?” Esra glanced towards the Commander as the door closed behind Hawke. 

He glanced at the floor in deep thought as he framed his reply, “Well, you’re friends with Dagna. You probably already know I have her working on a few things to negate or at least understand red lyrium. Leliana and the Inquisitor have determined who is leading the Venatori and have been trying their best to spy on her and gain more information. I’ve heard they believe they can turn her against Corypheus. There’s not much we can do to help them there yet, but we know the enemy plans an attack at the heart of Orlais. The ball Empress Celene is hosting to support her peace talks is coming soon and we believe Corypheus will strike then. I assume, for now, that is our next major bout.”

“I’ve never been to Orlais.” 

“We can probably change that, Josephine and Leliana are plotting ways to sneak guards in for support if there is any fighting the Inquisitor can’t handle with the small force she normally takes with her.” Cullen smiled faintly. “I’ll have to see how you fight, first.”

Esra nodded, “Bull?”

The giant of a man shrugged and smirked, “Sure, I’ll get Cassandra in the morning and we can see about spending some time in the ring.”

The Commander rose and stretched, “I’m in need of sleep. As much as I can get. I shall see you all in the morning. Just remember, no one will hold you to joining us in the Winter Palace. There shouldn’t be much fighting, some minor skirmishes. It won’t be nearly as chaotic as the Hinterlands or the Exalted Plains. Perhaps it will be a good stepping stone.”


	26. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After weeks of work, Dagna is excited to show off the finished product that Esra had requested and her old Captain has a gift to go with it, one that came right from Alistair. More than a little overwhelmed but getting caught up in the excitement of her friends, for once, her mood is only dampened upon realising that between revealing the armour and sparring to show the Commander she is fit to fight, she might never have a moment's peace in Skyhold again. 
> 
> *Thank you so much for being patient, I didn't realise how hectic the last two weeks would be. I owe you all one more post and Sunday's post and then I'll be caught up. I'm also starting another short story, my Tevinter short is posted already. I am so sorry I got behind again.

“Esra!”

An excited voice stopped her as she leaned against the fence surrounding the training yard, coming to terms with the idea that Cullen and Varric would be part of this now. Dagna always sounded like she was in the middle of a thrilling breakthrough so Esra turned slowly, glad that at least one person still used her last name. It made Dagna even more comfortable to be around.

Esra arched a brow as the young dwarf stumbled to a stop in front of her, bracing her hands on her knees. “Catch your breath before you pass out, Dagna.” 

Shaking her head, Dagna reached out to grab her by the wrist and pull her back towards the stairs up into Skyhold. At a loss, Esra looked back over her shoulder at Bull and Krem who seemed just as startled and began to follow them all the way into Undercroft. Captain Mallon waited as well in the fortress’ underbelly. 

“Dagna, by Andraste’s grace will you slow down and tell me what’s going on?”

Dagna put a hand on her work table and collected herself briefly, a wide grin on her face. “Well, alright. Okay, so. I had more time than I expected and then I met the Captain and we talked for a bit and I also heard you were planning on showing the Commander how well you spar today. It got me thinking, I stayed up all night just to make sure I got the last touches done. He helped a bit, the Captain that is. His input was amazing, really.”

Two hands came down on Dagna’s shoulders to hold her in place as she bounced on her toes, “It’s done? The armour?”

Bull folded his arms over his chest with an arch look that she could feel burning holes into her back. “You got new armour made?”

If Dagna’s smile grew any bigger, Esra worried her cheeks might tear. “It’ll be a bit snugger but I can already tell you’re thinner than you used to be. If you want to make a statement, make one.”

Eyes narrowing, her hands tightened on Dagna as a mettle she hadn’t had in a long time turned grey eyes to bright steel. “Show me.”

Bouncing on the balls of her feet again, Dagna took her hand and pulled her over behind a partition that had a table set up with the glossy armour resting on it. The entire suit consisted of nearly two dozen pieces and each was laid out where it should be. Nothing had been necessarily repaired, but every gash had been filled with a silvery metal ore that didn’t not stand out but could be discerned from the polished gold. Even the burned-on tarnish remained, aging certain parts of the equipment. The helm showed the most difference now that it had been bent back into the right shape. The Golden Mabari on the cuirass was unmarred as none of the damage had been there, thank the Maker for hidden blessings. 

Esra’s hands trembled somewhat as she reached out to life the backplate of her cuirass, “I melted down some Paragon’s Luster we had and set the pieces that needed it into a mould so that the metal wouldn’t just pour through it. I poured it in from the inside of the piece, making sure it wouldn’t be too thick on your back. Once it cooled and was almost solid, I flipped it over and buffed it down from the outside so it wouldn’t be bubbled up or very uneven. Actually, the materials we used were interesting samples the Inquisitor keeps finding that were touched by the magic in the Fade and altered. You’ll have to let me know what benefit these have. The leather connections had mostly rotted so we replaced them with bear hide that had also been exposed to Fade rifts.”

“I probably don’t need to ask but it’ll still be strong? Or should I watch my back and side to make sure they don’t get hit very heavily?” That familiar sensation of her heart trying to race away without her was trying to return but she did her best to focus on devouring every detail before her with an awed gaze. 

Dagna nodded sagely, looking a bit calmer and proud of her handiwork, “Of course, I tested it. I’d still suggest that you be careful. Repaired armour can hold up well if you do it right but don’t test fate. It’s never good to get hit in the back in the first place.”

“Are you ready to try it on again?”

No one would judge her for taking a moment to steel herself. This was not easy, no one would have found it easy. She couldn’t even describe what she was feeling but she nodded slowly. Dagna took her time working from the feet up as Esra pulled on the tunic each piece could attach to. Eventually the woman handed her the helm, watching the emotion play across her face as the veteran turned it over in her hands. “It’s beautiful, Dagna. I didn’t think you’d be able to reshape it so well. People say dwarves don’t wield magic but this must be the proof of your own kind of it.” 

“Don’t worry about it. You’re like a walking sign that says, ‘Go to Dagna’s for your armour needs’!” That unquenchable grin returned, adorable as ever, as Dagna motioned for her to join the others again. 

If putting it on had been hard, it was nigh impossible to take the first step. In her mind she repeated the names of those who had worn it and reminded herself that one also stood out there to greet her. She had already passed the point weeks ago where turning back was in any way possible, if it ever had been once Keeper Lanaya had convinced her to leave. Once the first step was taken, a rush of familiarity ignited in her chest. It felt the same, every movement and the comforting weight and rattle. For so long this had been her second skin and it hit her suddenly to realise how incomplete she had been without it. 

Head lifted, helm beneath her arm, confidence straightened every limb with each step she took. Esra stopped and looked at Bull as she neared the centre of the room, a faint smirk pulling at the scars on her left cheek as she saw the grin on his own, “So. You didn’t get new armour. I have to say, this is better. Nice work, Dagna, that’s a damn good suit.”

Turning to the Captain, he held a greatsword within its sheath in his hands, pride glowing on his face. “Girl, you always do the Mabari proud. The King sent a gift with me just in case. It’s good to have my Lieutenant back.” Instead of clasping her hand when she extended it, he pulled her into a bear of a hug and then stepped past her to attach the sword’s sheath. “This is Starfang, the King said his wife had it forged at Soldier’s Peak using metal ore from a fallen star. Neither of them use two handers and the friend who used it found his own and went back to Par Vollen, leaving it in her hands.”

“I don’t suppose the King asked before he gave it away?” The sarcastic question made Bull laugh and the Captain smiled patiently.

“That’s his problem, but I imagine he’s also trying to use it to make you visit in order to return it or at least clarify with the Queen that it doesn’t bother her.” 

A disgusted noise left the woman but she tested how hard it would be to pull the beast of a sword from its sheath over her shoulder. It made her wince as her shoulder pulled but it didn’t protest as much as she had expected. The blade was beautiful, but deadly, shining so brightly it reminded her of Silverite were it not for the blue hue to the metal itself. Dagna stepped forward and carefully held the blade, gesturing towards where it met the hilt. “I took some liberties and boosted the power of the sword with some runes. It’s an immensely strong weapon by its own merit so it managed to take three before I decided I should stop. I used the highest quality ones we have in case the King does end up wanting it back but the first is a cleansing rune that deals things like darkspawn and the corrupted templars extra damage. This one here is a corrupting rune that damages anything normal and alive. Last one, here, targets demons and undead.”

“Well with armour and a weapon like this I suppose I have no choice but to go out and use them.” 

Bull laughed again at her faintly exhausted and overwhelmed voice. “Nails, don’t try to play hard to get. I saw your face when you walked out. Come on, head outside and we’ll get this demonstration going. Think you can handle live steel this time? Krem, get Cassandra down here. Cullen is probably already waiting.” The Tevinter Charger saluted and darted out of the door, although a grin was on his own face. 

Hesitation struck again but she tried to swallow it back and nodded, “Maybe not with this though. I don’t want to accidentally do real damage with these runes added. I’m also not sure what, precisely, star metal will cut through.”

Great horned head nodding, he led her up into Skyhold’s main hall with Dagna and Captain Mallon trailing behind. “Appreciated. We’ll get something. People are about to start staring, if you’re more comfortable, put the helmet on now before we reach the top of the stairs.”

Suddenly immensely grateful for the Ben-Hassrath’s ability to know how she would react to nearly anything, she paused long enough to tie her hair up and placed the helm with a sigh of relief. Part of her had worried that, with it on, all she would see or think about would be a blow coming at her left to blind her. Catching up to him, she took a steadying breath, “People are going to think I copied it or stole it aren’t they?”

“Some. Won’t lie. Some will also immediately worship you. But those will be the extremes. The majority will be cautious but curious, it was a good move to leave the damage while still making the armour usable again. No one can say it was made new as a copy without looking like a fool.” He pushed the door open for her and followed casually at her left to offer cover in case anyone startled her. 

This time the walk to the doors felt twice as long. People were used to armoured warriors wandering the halls but anyone who had her in their line of sight would pause at the unique armour and pat at their companions to make them look. Most were openly curious but a few, usually workers instead of visiting dignitaries, paled and you knew they had recognised the cuirass. Some even followed behind the small group of friends as they exited the doors and made their way to the sparring ring. 

Bull stopped by the now attentive Chargers to borrow a greatsword, his own weapon carried across his back already. The Lieutenant watched the shock dawn across Commander Cullen’s face before a faint smile replaced it and he bowed slightly at the waist. She stopped at his side, “How many of them are staring? Do I even want to know?”

“Put it out of your mind, the answer won’t make you feel better. Channel that anxiety into determination and put it to use in that ring. You should know, I have no doubts about your ability, Melisande Esra. This is to prove what we already believe to yourself.” Cullen braced a hand against her shoulder in encouragement only to turn his head as a low whistle sounded.

“Looks better than I expected to be honest. I should stop underestimating that dwarfy ray of sunshine.” Varric smirked as he approached, Bianca resting easily against his shoulder. Back behind the tavern, one of the old dummies was now riddled with bolts. 

“Why do I get the feeling that, should I stand facing that dummy, your bolts would form some sort of face?” Esra tilted her head to get the dwarf into her vision better, the raised brow audible in her tone.

Varric slapped a hand over his heart with exaggerated injury, “Do you truly think me so immature and easily amused, Nails?”

The response came from she and Cullen simultaneously with a similar tone, “Yes.”

Throwing his head back with a laugh, he waved dismissively at them and secured Bianca in her holster, “You two are no fun.”

“I beg to disagree, Master Tethras. It simply goes over your head.” 

Cullen choked on a laugh as Varric blinked and shook his head, his hand forgotten where it still rested against his chest, “Was that…? Nails, did you really just say that? You went there? I can’t believe it, an actual joke. Well made, perfectly timed, I am so proud of you.”

Sighing, Esra lifted one mailed hand to her face, “Varric, I’m sure you already know this but it ruins the attempt when you do that.”

Cassandra joined the small group as the Iron Bull and Krem made sure the training yard was prepared for an actual fight, although Esra noticed they were also placing the small things that helped her calm down. It was habit at this point, she imagined, but if she was going to prove to Cullen she could handle a real fight then she couldn’t fall apart and need an hour to recover when it was over. “When Bull told me that you had Dagna restore your armour, I will admit I was not sure what to expect. How are you feeling, Melisande?”

“I’m worried that I’ve signed up to humiliate myself in front of all of Skyhold and that will be the last impression everyone has of the Golden Mabari.” Esra sighed, one hand lifting to trace the differences in metal on the left of her helm though she couldn’t really feel through the gauntlet she wore. 

The Seeker nearly rolled her eyes as she reached out to take Esra by the shoulder, leading her towards the circle. “You have done very well the last few weeks and your back is showing improvement. If you put the crowd out of your mind and treat this as just another spar with us, you will be fine. You do not want these people to lose respect for this armour, make it impossible to do so. That is up to you.”

It was truly a good thing that she hadn’t ever glanced behind herself as they had exited Skyhold’s halls. She had a feeling it would be harder to ignore them if she had any idea how many people were watching. Breathing deep, she felt reassured but also nauseated by the smell of cold metal. Holding out a hand, Krem slapped the hilt of a sword into her palm and she gripped it firmly. Instantly she could feel the difference between a steel greatsword and the wooden practice ones. Her back grumbled ominously as she lifted it and rolled her shoulders to loosen them. 

Briefly, Esra turned her head to bring Cullen back into view. He met her gaze unflinchingly and nodded, his own expression confident with a faint smile. He really didn’t have any doubts… no pressure at all. 

Setting herself, she stepped into the ring and was glad to see that neither Cassandra nor Bull held back as she entered already swinging. In fact, they both remained in the circle although they only came at her one at a time still. The first clash of her sword against Bull’s nearly shook her. None of their practice with wooden weapons had prepared her to hear the screech of metal on metal again, not this close to her own face. 

Desperation threatened to make her swings a bit too wild as she gritted her teeth and did her best to hang on to what sanity she had retrained into herself. Focusing on containing the energy in each parry and blow gave her something to stabilise with, just as when Cassandra had taught her to weigh her sword in her mind. 

Straining but slowly recognising that nothing was going wrong, the veteran felt steel rise into her gaze and she locked eyes with Bull before switching her stance from defensive to offensive and launching towards him. His grin was like the sun rising even as he had to give ground to block her next blow. 

Instinct flared red in the back of her mind and, with her next swing, she brought the sword around behind her own body only for it to clatter off Cassandra’s longsword. A snarl rose to her own features, hidden by the helm, as she pivoted to keep the fence at her back. Cassandra came at her left and Bull her right, both hindered by the training dummies as Esra stepped back slightly between two of them. 

Perhaps it was a bit late, but it occurred to her as her ears rang from a cuff to the side of her head that no one had set rules or a time limit to this bout. As she shook her head to clear it, Cassandra knocked her back into the fence posts with a shield bash, winding her slightly. At the last second, she remembered to block the following swipe with her right arm instead of her left. The last thing she needed was for it to break again. 

Fuelled by irritation at being teamed up on, Esra forced them both back with a wide sweep of her sword that nearly hit Krem outside of the fence. Cassandra was going to be the biggest problem with that shield so it was upon her that Esra focused. Trying to batter her down, Esra sacrificed accuracy for some more speed. Something hit her in the back and made her stumble as she pressed Cassandra but she trusted Dagna’s handiwork. Suddenly Cassandra dropped her shield and sword, holding her hands up and stepping back. The entire time, Esra hadn’t hit much but her shield, the woman was impossible to get a solid strike on, but she had managed to push her outside of the ring. Apparently, they had decided that was a signal that they were out of the fight… good to know. 

Armed with that knowledge, she saw Bull swinging as she turned and made a quick step to her left so that when she stumbled backward she hit the fence instead of exiting the ring. Prepared for Bull’s strike, she rebounded off the fence and under his guard as he recovered his weapon. Without hesitation, she drove the hilt of her sword into his gut. While he caught his breath, she darted around him so that she had most of the ring and was in no danger of getting knocked outside of the fence.

A minute or two later, she was already wondering why she hadn’t shoved him outside of the ring when she had a chance. 

Esra and Bull pushed hard, even though her back was starting to complain vehemently, blades locked together as each tried to gain and maintain ground. She saw what Bull was planning a heartbeat before he did it but couldn’t correct in time. His blade slid along the length of her and then twisted to sweep her legs out from under her. 

The crash as she landed on her back was a cacophony that continued as she rolled to her right to evade his great axe as it buried its head into the ground where she had been. With a growl, she kicked his knee as he tensed to tug his weapon from the dirt, making it give out as well. He stumbled but didn’t fall fully, correcting himself as Esra stood and ran to the other side where Cassandra had dropped her shield. Sword abandoned and the medium sized round shield in her grasp, she rushed Bull as he turned to engage again. 

At the last second as he braced himself, she ducked down and pushed the shield up higher so it connected with his upper chest and jaw. He had tucked his head to the side, seeing it coming, to minimise the blow but still stumbled back a few paces. Feeling a hint of guilt but following through, she rose to her feet and shoved him again with the shield against his chest this time. Already off balance, she managed to get him outside of the circle. 

With the fight over, she dropped the shield, her left arm unconsciously cradled close to her torso as she followed Bull. “You alright? That was a low move, I didn’t really think it through until it was too late.”

He was laughing even as he pressed a hand to his jaw, his good eye watering slightly. When he spoke, his words were a bit thick, “Not a problem, if it was a real fight I’d want you to do things like that. And anyway, we threw shit at you that you didn’t expect too. I think I did more damage biting my tongue than you did with the edge of that shield.”

Relieved, Esra shook her head as Cassandra, Cullen, and Varric came to join them. Varric was clapping his hands slowly, “Damn, Nails. Tiny told me you’d been practising since we left but I don’t think I expected that. You came far, fast.”

The Commander was smiling as he folded his arms across his chest and nodded, “I had no doubts. I am glad, however, that the old injuries to your back and shoulder haven’t held you back much. The apothecary does excellent work.”

“Indeed, she does.” Leliana’s lilting voice startled Esra as she tried to figure out how to respond to the praise she was receiving. She had her hands clasped at her back as she strolled from Skyhold’s doors to stop at Bull’s side. Nodding respectfully nod to Esra, she addressed Bull without looking at him, “I believe you owe me twenty royals, Bull.”


	27. A Cry For Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esra has spent the night and day hiding out in an attempt to postpone the chaos she fears will come with Skyhold connecting her to her armour. As Varric helps her prepare herself, Cullen and Ser Barris arrive with a proposal. Val Colline needs saving again, this time from demons. The decision is made not to wait for Leliana to determine if it is more Venatori or a weakening of the Veil, but simply to rush to their aid before any more damage can be done. There is room for Esra if she's willing.

“I’m not going to be able to hide forever, am I?”

Varric chuckled as he settled down next to Esra who brooded into a mug at the bar, listening to the excited chatter in the room. So many were talking about the sparring match from yesterday but she had managed to get the armour off and hidden away again before anyone had connected her to it. “Nails, that isn’t a real question, is it? If it is, you didn’t think this through very far. You literally came back from the dead to these people.”

Esra’s head hit the wooden surface of the bar with a dull thunk as she groaned, “I know. Blight on it all. This mess used to be so easy. Cailan paraded us around everywhere and we got used to being stared at and causing a stir. He liked it. I kind of liked it too, even though I rolled my eyes at him and tried to act like I was so much more serious than everyone else. Now it’s…” Sighing, she sat herself back up and ran a hand through her hair.

“Overwhelming. It should be, you’ve barely spoken to twenty or thirty people in the last decade, most of them reclusive Dalish folk. If you weren’t shaky about it, it would worry me more.” The dwarf folded his arms on the bar, tilting his head to keep her in view with an arch look. “Although I think it’s less fear over the attention and more worry that you’ll react badly the first time someone questions you.”

She nodded with a scowl, “How should I even handle that, Varric? You’re the word-smith. I have no proof that I was at Ostagar. My injuries could have happened anywhere and there were deserters, even in the Royal Guard. The Captain told me Elric Maraigne was discovered by the Wardens while they fought the Blight.”

Quietly he nodded and then took a drink from his own mug, “You don’t. You will never convince everyone, someone will argue for the sake of arguing. They don’t matter, Nails. What does matter is that everyone leading this Inquisition does know it’s the truth. Given enough time, Leliana could probably track down your records and verify that you were in the guard and you were last stationed at Ostagar and then found in Denerim badly injured, but some fool would still claim desertion.”

“You said you saw the previous Divine in the Fade?”

Confusion and no little shock flashed across Varric’s face as Esra completely changed the topic, her eyes lost in the oaky brown of the ale in her cup. He cleared his throat, “I guess, maybe. More Solas’ area of expertise but it sure looked like her. I couldn’t say if it was her or a spirit though. Why?”

“I’ve been seeing Cailan. Twice since we came to Skyhold. I don’t think I’m crazy, but I suppose I wouldn’t if I was.” She idly turned her mug from side to side in her hands, “He wanted me to fight again. If it really is him… I just don’t want to let him down. Not again.”

Sitting back, Varric gripped her shoulder to make her face him more fully, eyes meeting hers sternly, “You never have. I can’t say anything about what you’re seeing but if it is him, he’d tell you the same thing. You did everything humanly possible, Nails. If it hadn’t been for sheer luck, you would have died for him too. As long as we’re friends, I will tell you every day there was nothing else you could do. All you have to do is own it and walk out there without a single care what they think.”

Before she could fully form a response to Varric’s sudden intensity, a faint cough had them both looking to the side. Cullen awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I wanted to introduce you to Ser Barris. Seeker Pentaghast had mentioned that for your first few excursions you could possibly join the Templars under our command so that you would have experienced support.”

The younger man stepped forward with an extended hand as Esra rose to her feet, “Ser Delrin Barris, ma’am. I saw your sparring session yesterday, impressive for someone who hasn’t stayed in practise. I assure you that I haven’t been told much, just pertinent facts so that if you decide to join us I can guarantee your safety.”

His calm and controlled demeanour instantly won her good favour as she shook his hand with a faint grin, “It would be an honour. I’ve heard a great deal about the composure you showed at Therinfal Redoubt.” An instant of hesitation had her glancing back at Varric before she straightened, “Melisande Esra. Formerly Lieutenant. Although if Alistair has his way I’ll be reinstated before Denerim sees its first snow of the year.”

Dark eyes sparkled with understanding humour as he released her hand and stepped back to the Commander’s side, “I know how that goes. Show even an ounce of initiative and ethical backbone and your superiors will never let you go. We’ve received word of demonic activity at Val Colline, perhaps a last revenge by the Venatori we routed out of there a month or so ago. We leave tomorrow, if that isn’t too soon we would welcome a few more veteran warriors to give us a strong force.”

Startled, Esra glanced to Cullen who met her look with confidence and nodded. Trying to shake off the rush of anxiety, she took a breath and then nodded to the patiently waiting Ser Barris. “I will make sure I’m ready to leave tomorrow then. Thank you for the opportunity.”

Ser Barris held up a hand with a shake of his head and a more open smile, “Thank you for your assistance and don’t put too much pressure on yourself. I will see you in the morning, I still have some things to prepare. Commander.” He turned to address Cullen, saluting with his fist against his shoulder before turning to leave the building.

Cullen hesitated and then nodded to Esra and Varric both, “Before you retire for the night, Lieutenant, come find me in my office. I can debrief you on the last excursion to Val Colline and what you can expect to find there.” 

As the Commander departed the tavern as well, Esra let go of an explosive breath, both hands folding together against the back of her head. “Well. This escalated quickly.” Turning to Varric, she arched a brow at the smirk on his face. “Varric?”

He shrugged and didn’t bother to hide the smug smile, “I can see what’s happening.”

Esra let her hands fall, perplexed, “What?”

“And they don’t have a clue.” Chuckling, he shook his head without answering her.

Realising he was deliberately being a nuisance, she folded her arms over her chest, “Who, Varric?”

When he held up his hands innocently, she threw hers up in the air and picked up her mug to down the rest of its contents. “There’s a word for people like you, Varric.”

“Handsome? Worldly? My personal favourite, inspired?”

“Incorrigible.”

Her first stop was to the apothecary to make sure Elan was aware of the decision and comfortable that her physical state was up to the exertion. “Get this package to Cabot within the hour, please. I’ll give you an extra sovereign if you do.” 

Esra arched a brow curiously as she stepped aside to let the messenger rush past her, highly amused by the intense focus on his face. As she approached the elven woman, Elan folded her arms and waited for her to say something. “I got my first mission.” Esra stated dryly after a moment of standoffish silence. 

“Ah, where to? Are you going out with the Templars or the militia?” With a noticeable relaxation in her shoulders, she motioned Esra closer and turned her around to press her fingers along where the scars were hidden. 

Wincing, she rolled her shoulders in discomfort, “Templars. They received word of some demonic problems at a city in Orlais. They offered me a spot with them but I thought it wise to get a professional opinion before we left.”

Elan snorted with an amused grin, releasing her grip on Esra’s weaker shoulder. “You’re smarter than most. Be careful with that shoulder and listen to it if the pain rises higher than you’re used to. Stay within the group because your enemies will be moving more quickly than you can, the cover will make up for the difference.”

Esra nodded and reached out to shake her hand as she faced the elf again, “I’ll see you when we return then, provided I don’t completely fall on my face.”

Turning to walk away, she paused as Elan responded rather firmly, “Don’t fall on your face, Esra. You had best come back after all the work you’ve put into your recovery.”

Preparing for the trip took surprisingly little time. Esra traded for a pack that could hold her stores and packed everything. Her armour was packed into a chest Dagna had given her, locked so no one would be tempted to see what was in it. It was truly all she needed on a forced march. Hopefully they would get there in time to save most of the city. In the time it would take them to get there, a sizable force could do a lot of damage. 

Finally, she could find nothing else to postpone the inevitable. Why she was even trying to she wasn’t certain of. Lightly she knocked upon Cullen’s door and started to turn away but he spoke up, “Come on in.”

He gave a half smile in that way that pulled the scar at the corner of his mouth as he watched her close the door, “I’m just going to go over the Venatori movements in the area so you’re prepared, not bite you. Sit or stand, whatever makes you more comfortable.”

“Not too worried about that, Commander.” Maker’s wrath, everything she could think of sounded incredibly awkward suddenly. Instead she cleared her throat. “Alright, what should I know about Val Colline, or even Orlais since I’ve never been there.”

Cullen sat back with his hands resting over his stomach, still fully armoured even at this late hour. “The Venatori were routed a month or two ago when we received word that they had laid siege to Val Colline in an attempt to gain control of its armoury. From what I’ve heard it’s rather extensive. They stockpiled with the start of the Orlesian Civil War but have remained mostly out of the crossfire and haven’t needed to use it. Magic is a bit out of their realm of expertise since the Templars all went rogue or to Therinfal and then were collected by the Inquisition. When we were there last we helped on their rebuilding efforts so the city was in decent shape but we won’t know how badly it’s fallen to the demons until we get there. Which brings me to you, I’m assuming you don’t have much experience with demons?” 

It seemed Val Colline was a decent target, the Venatori were not short on good tacticians. “I fought them a few times between the Brecilian Forest and here but neither event turned out well in my favour. The first time my halla saved me, the second your Inquisitor and her companions did. To be fair, however, I had no armour or weapons then.”

The Commander nodded sagely, “Always a good idea to be prepared when traversing a war zone but I understand why you had no wish to fight back then. I’m… glad that you’ve found yourself again here. With the Inquisition. It was a shame that the Ferelden forces lost such an exemplary member of their fold for any length of time.”

Esra couldn’t hold back a slightly bitter laugh, her hand raking through her hair idly, “I appreciate the sentiment, Commander, but I’m no better than the next Ferelden. I just took advantage of every opportunity I had to train and had an irritating brother that I really wanted to put in his place. I was an arrogant kid.”

He held up a hand ruefully as he tilted his head to watch her, “Perhaps. King Cailan and your Captain seemed to find something in you that you don’t see. That may even be a good thing. It keeps one humble. I think I see, even after having only recently met you, what they did, however. Don’t discredit yourself.” Cullen sighed and rose to his feet, coming around his desk to hold out a hand to her after a moment, “One last thing before I let you get some rest, since you’ll be up quite early tomorrow. Come back safely, Melisande. I wish I could go out with you this first time back in the field as I feel partially responsible for pulling you back into battle, but other obligations hinder me. Do not hesitate to rely on someone for help and if you get overwhelmed or feel you’re losing control of the situation it is not embarrassing to stay close to Ser Barris.”

These people were forever astounding her. Esra had taken the man’s hand and allowed him to help her stand and lead her back toward the door before she could reply. “I’ll be smart about it, Commander. I promise.”

Cullen paused as he gripped the door handle, meeting her gaze almost awkwardly, “I just realised I know your full name and you only know my first. That hardly seems fair.”

Waiting a moment and caught a bit off guard, Esra caught herself smiling uncertainty and folded her arms more for the sake of moving. She felt oddly jittery. “I suppose not but it’s up to you. I can understand a Commander not being able to connect with everyone in his army.”

“I’m not just your Commander, I’m your friend… I hope. I’ve tried to be. You’ve needed some for a long time. Cullen Stanton Rutherford. Have a good night and safe travels, Lieutenant Melisande Esra. I look forward to your return.” With a slight bow at the waist and a wry twinkle in his eyes that was rather disconcerting, he opened the door for her to walk out into the snowy night. 

As unsure as Cullen could be, that smirk was blighted adorable. 

Standing on the bridge to Solas’ office, she took in her surroundings and it occurred to her just how much snow was on the ground. She groaned. It was going to be miserable walking or riding through that in plate armour.

Reluctantly she made her way back to her bunk. This late it wouldn’t be a good idea to take the sleep aid that Elan had given her. It made her anxious to even lay down without it but she sent the Maker a prayer and hoped he gave a shit as she made herself try and get some sleep. She would be useless tomorrow without it.

Morning came with good feelings as she woke with the first rays of dawn and realised she had slept through the night without trying to strangle someone. Gingerly she rose, cringing as her feet touched icy stone. Oh, if she whined about that then putting on her armour would be miserable. The soldier’s life would take some getting reacquainted with. 

Slowly she dressed and tugged her padded tunic on before assembling her suit a bit at a time as quietly as she could. A few pieces proved difficult without assistance but she managed through stubborn will. Rising to her feet, she lifted her pack and her helm. 

“It was you?” The whisper was quiet but the awe in it made her cringe as she turned to face one of her bunk mates. It was the light sleeper she had almost throttled once before. 

“I never caught your name.” She shrugged her pack over her shoulders as she turned towards the door, keeping him in sight out of the corner of her hale eye. 

The man actually flushed as he swung his feet over the side to sit up, “Brandel, sorry ma’am.”

Esra nodded to him with a faint grin, straightening up so the Mabari glinted proudly in the dim light. “Esra. Keep yourself safe, Brandel. I have to meet the Templars but I’ll be back in a few weeks.” With that said, she stepped out into the cold before he could ask questions that would make her late. 

Standing in the courtyard were her friends and the Templars. Varric looked miserable to be up so early but Krem and Bull grinned openly, Cassandra eyeing her with a keenly proud eye. The Captain was not so subtle as he beamed at her, wrapping an arm about her shoulders. “I’ll be headed back to the wife while you’re gone, my girl, but don’t you dare think this is the last we will see of each other. Shall I tell the King you’re more interested in his job offer than you thought? I think it would be good for you.”

That made her roll her eyes as she gripped Varric’s hand. “No matter what I say, I know what you’ll tell him. Let him know I’ll stay with the Inquisition for now and get used to the idea of it but then I’ll return to Denerim and talk it over with him. Knowing him, he’ll take it for the answer it is.” She nodded to the Captain and then grinned at the surly dwarf, “Morning, Varric.”

“No it isn’t, it’s still dark. I’m going back to bed as soon as you leave that gate. Kick some ass and take some names, Nails. It’s good to see some real steel showing in you.” Varric smirked back at her, squeezing her hand before stepping back. 

“We won’t keep you with long goodbyes, kid. Just wanted to see you off. Plus, you’ve probably heard the be careful and come back speech too many times as it is, won’t put you through it again.” Bull clapped her hand in his for a firm shake as Krem folded his arms with a grin.

Cassandra shook her head, “Melisande, they have already started placing bets on you, do not let this camaraderie fool you. They will be a nuisance without you here, anything from how many kills you will take to whether you will fall off of your horse. You had best return to shut them up finally, if nothing else.”

The grin Cassandra gave her was small but sly, a look Esra couldn’t resist returning. “They’re louts, the lot of them. I won’t let you suffer longer than you have to, Seeker. If they get to be too much, throw them in the sparring ring for a few minutes to teach them a lesson.”

Ser Barris waved her over to a rich brown Forder, “Here, we need speed this time so we’re taking what horses that Horsemaster Dennet could lend us. You can get your pack and weaponry situated and we leave in just a few minutes.”

Esra nodded, already feeling more at home than she had expected with the brisk, structured pace the soldier insisted upon. It was a relief to slip back into it. Glancing back at her friends, she lifted a hand briefly and then tossed her pack onto the horse’s back to tie it down. Starfang followed, settled carefully so that she could still pull it from its sheathe while astride the horse.

Grimacing at the pull in her shoulder, she hefted herself up to mount and steadied it as it paced with the growing tension in the air. Everyone was getting their battle faces on, though Val Colline was a week or so away. Ser Barris appeared on his horse at the head of the group and then the gates to Skyhold opened.

He led them across the bridge into the mountains on their way to Orlais. 

Esra prayed she didn’t freeze. Here, or there.


	28. Val Colline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling with the Templars proves to be a bittersweet reminder on the road to Val Colline. The week it takes to grow accustomed to being in a close knit brotherhood, however, proves vital as the battleground of the city looms ahead of them. Val Colline is overrun and it's up to them to clear the streets, douse fires, and rescue any survivors.

“Right, listen up. The men we sent ahead have returned and what we’re going into doesn’t look good. Our first order of business is killing any demon we see but if you see a chance to stop a fire safely take it. It won’t do us much good to be fighting in an inferno.” Ser Barris paced his horse back and forth in front of the column, his face calm but carved of stone with determination. The man had proven in each skirmish on their journey that he was not in the mood for setbacks. “Do not get separated from each other, stay in groups of three to four. Less than that and you stand a huge risk of getting overwhelmed. We have a few more hours to ride, maintain pace. We don’t want to exhaust the horses but we need to get there as soon as possible.”

Nodding with finality, though none present would argue his orders, he turned his horse and started the last leg of their journey to the city. Glancing back, he caught Esra’s eye and motioned her forward to join him. “Specific orders for me, Ser Barris?” Careful to guide her horse over the uneven ground, she watched its feet a moment longer before tilting her head towards the Templar.

“A question first. How comfortable are you about this? I am going to be heading into the thick of it so if you’re uncertain then I can have you follow someone else. These will be strong opponents, if the scouts are right there’s even at least one pride demon. We can try to keep you towards areas less impacted.” His voice was low but his gaze direct as he folded his hands upon his reigns in his lap. 

Esra cleared her throat slightly as she looked away to their destination, still out of sight in the distance. Whatever answer she gave him she would have to live with and give it her best shot. No failing, no freezing, not when others were counting on her to have their back. “I’m not sure comfortable is a good word to use for anyone here. I can do this, I will do this. I need to prove myself, Ser Barris.” Her jaw was firm and her eyes solid as stone as she nodded to him, even as her chest trembled within the embrace of her armour. 

For a moment, he watched her and Esra began to worry he would pull her out anyway. “When we get in there I need you right next to me so I won’t get distracted looking for you. I know you can handle this, the Commander spoke highly of your ability and I’ve seen you fight. But this is your first time back in the field in a decade and you’re my responsibility just like the rest of my men. If we run into the pride demon or any fear demons, hang back and let us distract it before you jump in. Go for the sides or back while we hold its focus.”

“Understood, Ser Barris. No heroics.” 

Reaching out, he clapped a hand onto her shoulder, “You and I are going to get along just fine, I think. Just remember, if your mind starts fighting you, that it’s a part of you and not the other way around. Control it, get past it.” Nodding once more, he let go and suddenly grimaced as they topped a hill to see a column of smoke in the distance. 

“We need to hurry.” Rising to stand in his stirrups, he lifted a hand and his voice, “Pick up speed, we head for Val Colline. Half of the column hang back and leave your horses behind before you enter the city, the rest of us will drive as deep as we can to get their attention off any survivors!”

Val Colline took more than an hour to reach, the horses lathered and breathing heavily from the rush. The closer they came to its walls, the thicker the smoke grew and the more acrid the smell accompanying it. The gates hung wide where the people living inside had rushed to leave Val Colline, several bodies lying in the road before them with flies swarming. Someone to Esra’s left gagged but she wasn’t sure who. 

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a chunk of their rear forces slow down to dismount but then they were out of sight as Esra passed the gates and the wall blocked her sight. Inhuman screeching echoed through the streets along with banging as beasts tried to break down doors. 

Someone shouted the name of the Maker in defiance and the rally spread through the Templars, but Esra did not join it. How could a Maker allow this to happen? More bodies lined the streets, perhaps fewer than it seemed to her troubled mind but still too many by far. Some too small to be even thought about. Ahead of her by a yard or so, Ser Barris led them through the streets in a cacophony of shrieks, hooves, armour, and faith. He glanced back once to meet her gaze, her own face a steely grimace hidden by her helm. They exchanged a nod and he did not check on her again.

In mere minutes, the fighting spread like a tide pouring through Val Colline. The foot soldiers had entered the outskirts and were working their way in while Ser Barris’ charge had gotten them damn near the centre of the city. It reeked in a way that made her stomach churn. 

The group that made it deepest into the city was small, less than ten people including herself that she could see in the rush. Others had been halted by fighting along the streets and broken off from the column. Finally, slowed near to a halt, Ser Barris had them all dismount and leave their horses behind to flee if they wished.

A few demons she recognised, there were so many terror demons both large and small that they were impossible to count. Esra also saw a score of the despair demons with their icy magic. Towering beasts made of flame bore down on them now and then as they fought deeper, she heard a nearby Templar call it a rage demon. The panic was constricting her throat and chest, every breath feeling like blades in her lungs, but everything was happening so fast that she managed to stay reactive. Desperation made her blows a bit wild but no one said anything about it to her.

“Fear demon, up ahead, get ready!” Ser Barris’ voice came as sharp as a shot over the chaotic din. Looking up, Esra saw a beast floating in the crossroads several yards down the road they were on. The demon had to be at minimum six feet tall but floated a foot from the ground, clawed hands extended out towards them as it noticed them. Its narrow rib cage showed every bone and layers of frayed fabric drifted about its waist. Six massive spider-like legs protruded from its back and wrapped forward around its body. Its eyes were hidden by a mess of tendrils, but the grin was a jumble of vile fangs as it shrieked at them. 

Hefting her sword up, Esra prepared to join the Templars fighting the fiend but a darkspawn lunged from a side street, sending her crashing to the ground. Another swiftly joined it as a strangled scream caught soundlessly in her throat. A Templar nearer to her spun back and grimly chopped his way through them before grabbing her arm to tug her back to her feet, “It isn’t real. Whatever you’re seeing is made by small fear demons called Fearlings. Just remember, it isn’t real.” 

Esra trembled violently as she picked up her sword, still feeling her heart choking her as she looked at the disintegrating carcasses of the Fearlings. They still looked like darkspawn but the Templar had to know what he was about. More darkspawn were rushing out of the shadows from every direction, they seemed to have no end and she could hear her breath rasping harshly as she tried to move. Her blood felt like ice and her limbs too heavy, her eyes far too slow. 

“Esra!” Drawn to the yell, she caught sight of Ser Barris gesturing for her to come closer to the group before she could get swarmed. In an instant, the colour and sensation drained from her face as an impossibility rose behind him. The ogre swiped at their leader but Ser Barris parried and pressed his attack again.

Taking one unsteady step, her eyes were still locked upon Ser Barris when a darkspawn near him got a solid strike at one leg, sweeping him from his feet. “No!” The cry was torn out of her before she could think twice. She couldn’t fail again, not like this. She would die fighting first. Released from the cage of her own emotions by the denial in her own voice, she dove back into the fight, buffeted by darkspawn and Fearlings alike. 

Two fell to her blade before the rest scattered back with growls and hisses as she stopped to help Ser Barris to his feet. His armour along his left thigh was slightly rent and bloody but he stood on his own with a limp, “We need to kill the Fear demon. It will just keep summoning Fearlings until it’s dead. If you can help me clear out the Fearlings then the rest of the Templars can focus their efforts.” His eyes bored into hers as he used her shoulder to balance, “I need you on this, can I count on you?”

She had frozen and it had nearly gotten Ser Barris killed. It had certainly gotten him hurt. Esra growled but shook herself off, she could wallow later. She needed to make up for her mistake and there was no time to languish anyway. Giving him a sharp nod, she shifted her grip on her sword as he switched his sword and shield to the opposite hands so he could better protect his injured leg. 

Turning around, she gritted her teeth and swung at the next darkspawn who got within reach. As she and Barris cut through the demons, she couldn’t help relaxing a bit finally. It was rather cathartic to be beating the darkspawn for once, even if they weren’t real darkspawn. It gave her a vengeful little thrill each time one disintegrated. 

As the crush thinned out, a few Templars turned their attention to the vicious demon as it flickered here and there through the raging battle. The blighted thing wouldn’t stay still. Keeping a close eye on everyone around her, she took down any darkspawn coming at the backs of her Templar companions with extreme prejudice. 

A cheer went up through their small group as the fear demon finally shrieked and collapsed to the ground. The two Templars closest to it quickly cut it apart to ensure it was dead before it began to dissolve. Others leaned on their swords or the wall to a building trying to catch their breath as Ser Barris unsteadily joined them. Another twinge of guilt sliced through her chest, already sore from being tossed to the ground like a doll. He put a hand on her shoulder to balance himself again, keeping his voice low. “Darkspawn?”

The feelings from earlier surged back so harshly that she had to swallow back bile, the back of one hand pressing to her face as best it could with metal covering her entire body. Barris recognised it without a word and simply nodded, “Take a minute, shake it off. If you need to be sick, don’t go far. No one here will judge you, nearly every recruit loses his last meal at least once dealing with demons and abominations. Fearlings are nasty bastards.” He started to move slowly away again before leaning towards her again, “Just, don’t forget to take your helmet off first. I’ve seen it, it’s a nasty event.”

Esra managed a weak chuckle as he left her side, her head still reeling as they all recovered from the rush to get here and the fight itself. Ser Barris waved his hand to bring them all in, “Battle isn’t done yet. We need to keep moving I want to find this pride demon-“

A roar cut him off, though it was loud enough Esra doubted that she would have heard him even if had tried to continue speaking. Soon after it a tremor rolled through the ground under their feet. “I think we may have found it, Ser Barris.” Esra glanced to her right where the dry comment had come from one of the Templars.

“Let’s get to it. The faster we get rid of these larger demons, the faster we clear out the rabble and can search for survivors.” Ser Barris’ voice was grim as he hefted his shield higher and led the way through the streets towards the growing sound of pitched battle. 

Turning down another narrow street, a crackle of purple light nearly made Esra see stars. Pushing forward, the small group joined about twenty more who were keeping the massive demon pinned in an open square. The fountain was crushed into rubble and pouring feebly across the ground before soaking into the dirt. The grey beast was taller than all the buildings around him by head and shoulders, lightning pulsing around its arms and curled horns atop its head. 

“This is a bad place, Ser Barris. We can’t get close with all that water. It’s bad enough we’re covered in metal.” Slipping up next to them, a Templar voiced his concerns while they watched on. 

Ser Barris sighed and shook his head, “We can’t have it ruining more buildings trying to move it somewhere else. We’ll have to make do. Circle the perimeter and switch to ranged weapons. Someone reach the others and have them switch to ranged as well.” Turning, Esra knew he was looking right at her trying to figure out what to do.

“Let me try again. This thing can’t mess with my head like the Fearlings did.” The words came low and bitter but she managed to get them out. She had a score to settle with the demons of Val Colline. 

Taking a single breath, he turned back to the battle, “You and me, Esra. Once it leaves that pool to go after the archers we attack, I want five more people ready for close range as well, so we can really do some damage to this thing. Spread out and keep it away from the archers so they can whittle it down. Go!”

She would not let the man down again, his limp and the red staining his rent armour were the only reminders she needed as she followed him into the square. This thing was as big as an ogre, it made her head ache, but she took up a position a few feet to Ser Barris’ injured left and got a good grip on her sword.

It didn’t take long to enrage the fiend, bringing it towards them in a leap as it lashed out with a crackling whip made from the lightning it commanded. Ser Barris and the templars under his command rushed forward to attack, with Esra keeping pace, as soon as it cleared the leaking fountain’s pool. 

She saw the creature start to stumble and had a sudden urge to rush in and take it’s leg out from under it that was so strong she almost couldn’t resist acting on it. Barris glanced over his shoulder to her in the same moment and she knew, “No heroics, Ser Barris!”

He barked a single laugh before the irritated demon growled thunderously at them once again, each Templar throwing off whatever compulsion they had been faced with as well. “He’s a big one but not very smart, is he Ser Barris?” Someone to her left called with victory in his voice.

Refocusing their attack, within minutes it fell to one knee. Ser Barris rushed forward and lunged in to sink his blade into its chest. It dissolved with its choking rasp overwhelmed by the tired cries of the Templars. A few had fallen to the beast’s whips but others helped them to their shaky feet. 

“Clear the rest of them out, they’ll probably start to flee now that they’ve seen us take these ones down. Any fear or desire demons, target them and destroy them. Don’t worry too much about the smaller ones getting out of the walls. We’ll clean them up later. Put out fires. I want this city on the road to recovery in two hours.” Ser Barris leaned on his sword, raising his voice to be heard above the others around them, crisp and professional despite his haggard appearance. 

Waiting for his men to begin work, he returned to Esra’s side where she also watched everyone depart. “You don’t look too thrilled, would you like my opinion on your service today?”

“I froze.” Esra shrugged, trying not to look at his leg or to think too deeply about how terrible it made her feel.

Ser Barris nodded and held up a hand for her to let him speak, “You froze. Then you pulled yourself out of it. You’re human, this was a tough assignment for your return to battle. I hadn’t considered the Fearlings either, I can’t imagine how rough that might have been especially unaware. Walk with me, I think you need to see some of the people you helped save today.”

“Ser Barris! Ser Barris, hold a moment!” It had taken not even twenty minutes of checking for wounded as people spilled from their houses into the streets. A woman in dented armour caught up to them with a brilliant but exhausted grin, “I knew you were the right person to call for, my friend. Routed the bastards in just under an hour.” She held out a hand to take his warmly as she caught up to them. 

“I’m just glad we got here in time to save as many as we could. Esra, this is Guard-Captain Weinman, who sent to us for aid. Guard-Captain, Esra here is a Ferelden veteran serving the Inquisition.” Ser Barris removed his helmet and smiled warmly as he greeted the Captain, prompting Esra to do the same.

Nodding to the Orlesian woman, she managed a smile with as little discomfort as she could, though Weinman seemed not to notice her anxiety. Instead she gripped her hand firmly, “I cannot thank you all enough for your efforts today. I never could have regained control without your timely arrival. Please, bring your injured to the barracks and we’ll get everyone treated. You too, Ser Barris, I could see your leg from the other end of the street.”

Swallowing hard, Esra glanced down to hide the embarrassed flush at the mention of Barris’ leg, but he nudged her after the guard continued on her survey of the wounded city. “It isn’t that bad, my armour stopped most of it like it’s supposed to. You’re taking blame but there were a few others around me too and I could have blocked better. You weren’t the only thing in the equation.” He stopped suddenly and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face the street.

The relief and joy, even awe, were tangible in the air from the survivors. Val Colline’s citizens had filled the streets. Women hugged each other, hugged men and children. Men gathered their families up and twirled them around, clapped friends on the back. More than a few cried. The Templars had moved all the dead they could find to the Chantry yard, so none would have to be reminded but all would know where to turn to look for anyone they were missing. 

“You did this, Esra. These people, their faces.” Ser Barris stepped up next to her, folding his arms across his chest. “This is why people like you and I do what we do. We take the darkness and the burdens so they don’t have to. If you’re looking for your lost purpose, it’s right there in that crowd, not clutched in the hands of a dead King. You’re a protector, a guardian, and a warrior. Or you never would have let them talk you into picking up a sword again.”

The night was starting to dim the horizon as it approached before Ser Barris put a hand on her shoulder. People began to return to their homes, holding tight to whoever they had left. “We’ll be leaving in tomorrow afternoon for Skyhold. Help them clear up a bit more before we do. I’m going to take care of my cuts and bruises, you should do the same. As hard as you got tossed, I know you have a few. Get some sleep, eat a full meal, take care of yourself. I’ll see you in the morning.”


	29. Rest and Relaxation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Templars have returned to Skyhold, welcomed with open arms. Esra isn't really interested in the praises, feeling a bit worn thin, but can't help enjoying being reunited with a few of her fellows in the Inquisition. Still, she isn't back for a day when the Commander offers for her to act as an escort as he deals with some matters in Ferelden.
> 
> *Enjoy the fluff. I apologise for my tardiness again, I've just been really out of sorts. Having a hard time focusing. I also reorganised my outline for the entire rest of this story since that was part of what was holding me back and I have a much better idea of where this is going.
> 
> **If anyone's interested, I started a tumblr as well, ghil-dirthalen.tumblr.com and I'll be posting ideas for short stories and other multi-chapter stories there in case anyone wants to provide feedback on what I should do next.

“Don’t look so worried, Master Tethras. She’s here, just farther back in the column.” Ser Barris grinned lightly at the dwarf who stood nearby with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. The brief expression of levity faded as soon as it developed, replaced by a pained grimace as the Templar carefully lowered himself from his horse. The sharp edges of the rent in his armoured thigh had been bent outward away from the sore flesh and bandages could just barely be seen within but his limp was a bit steadier than when they had begun the trip home. “Believe me, I tried to get her to ride with me, but that woman wears a guilty conscience heavier than full plate.”

Varric shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked a few more feet to watch the column entering the gates with only slightly fewer riders than they had left with. They’d done well and mitigated their losses. “How did she do?”

Barris cleared his throat as Dennet came hurrying over with a few extra men to gather their horses and tend to the equally exhausted beasts. “Not nearly as badly as she’ll probably try to convince the rest of you she did. The Fearlings were the only thing that really threw her and there’s no one to blame for that but us. It didn’t even occur to me what they might make her see. She was anxious and a little wild with her swings beyond that but… I would say she did very well.”

The relief was obvious in the way Varric’s stance relaxed, if you knew what to look for, but his frown didn’t let up. “That’s… really good to hear, but I don’t think anyone expected Fearlings. Don’t take that burden. No one’s seen Fear demons outside of the Emerald Graves so we didn’t think to prepare for them.” His countenance grew grimmer as he turned to the Templar, “Darkspawn?”

Nodding silently as he watched as the only golden warrior took her helm off and made her way toward them. From their left Commander Cullen approached as well with a letter folded neatly in his hands. “She calmed down a great deal once she was able to work with the survivors. It helped her balance things out in her head. Commander.” Ser Barris turned to greet Cullen with a smart salute and a bow, though the practised movement was ruined a tad by his stumble as his injury caused his leg to buckle mid-bow.

The Commander reached out to grip Ser Barris on the shoulder, smiling faintly. “Easy. With the combined weight of our armour, if I try to catch you we’re both hitting the ground. Here, this came in, it beat you by just a few hours. Guard-Captain Weinman apparently wants you to make sure your leg doesn’t scar and that she wants you to return sometime and tell her recruits war stories. You made an impression.” 

Ser Barris straightened and took the letter as his Commander spoke, “Ah, perhaps. I think I’ll go get this tended, we had a lack of healing supplies at Val Colline, they all went to the survivors.” Nodding to them both, the Templar departed with one hand gripping his hip as he tried not to limp as noticeably.

“Where is everyone else?” Varric and Cullen turned back around as Esra joined them, her stance stiff and her arms folded over her chest. 

“That’s an easy one, Nails. Blackwall, Sera, and Vivienne are out with her Inquisitorialness, Solas is in his study. Josephine is entertaining some Orlesian ponce. Curly and myself are here with you. Leliana, Bull, Cassandra, Cole, Dorian, and the Chargers are waiting for us in the tavern. Although, just being honest, I think Dorian’s down here more for Tiny than yourself. I think Dagna may be here as well, come to think of it.” Varric held a hand out to her with a broad grin after he finished ticking people off on his fingers, “You made it, it’s good to have you back.”

Slowly she removed her helm and reached out to clasp Varric with a familiar grin, “I didn’t think I was going to be so happy to be back. I suppose it was easier thinking of Skyhold as the place where everything goes to shit and my best laid plans fall apart. After being out there in it, this fortress of yours seems sane by comparison.”

Cullen chuckled slightly as he shifted a bit awkwardly, seemingly unsure where to put his own hands, “I’m sure you’re not the only person who feels that way.” His lips twitched in a slight frown, settling for clasping his hands behind his back, “Are you alright though, Melisande? I heard you took a hard fall, and you seem to be moving with less of your usual flexibility.”

Esra couldn’t help a sigh as she rubbed the back of her neck. “I think part of that is being on horseback for so long after years never even looking at one, but I am indeed black and blue from my hip to my shoulder. Maybe the back of my head too. I can’t wait to get out of this metal husk.” She rapped the breastplate with one hand and managed a slightly weaker grin. “Mind if I meet you in the tavern in a bit?”

Varric’s laugh had her loosening up enough to grin back at him as he waved her off, “Go ahead, we’ll keep your drinks cold. Make Sparkler useful for that much. Get a shower while you’re at it, you smell like sweaty horse.”

“Get over it, Varric. I can’t be near as bad as Blackwall, he lives with them.” She dismissed him with a scoff as she turned to walk away from his breathless cackle at her retort.

He cleared his throat as she got farther away, then arched a bushy brow at their Commander who was watching her departure. “So, Curly, you’re an expert of sorts on flexibility? Keeping a pretty close eye on that… flexibility.”

“Wh-What?” Cullen stepped back with his hands raised defensively as his ears darkened and he brought a fist up to cover his mouth as he coughed to cover the faint leap in his tone of voice. “I’m not sure what you’re on about, Master Tethras. I look after the health and wellbeing of every soldier under my command. That is all.”

The storyteller grinned and shrugged amicably, turning to lead the flustered man towards the tavern. “That’s all. Right. Okay, Curly. You keep monitoring that flexibility, we certainly don’t want anyone getting… stiff.”

Cullen threw his hands up in the air before running one through his hair to ruffle it. There was a moment where he seemed to be considering throttling Varric but then they were inside the pub. Too many witnesses.

“Where is she, dwarf?” Cassandra straightened from her place leaning against the bar and frowned, placing a book with canvas wrapped around it to hide the cover upon the bar.

Varric lifted his own hands in defence now as Cullen stepped around him to join the group, “Relax, Seeker, she just wanted to get cleaned up. She knows where to find us.” His drawl was relaxed and even amused as he sidled closer to pull his seat out.

“It’s just one long scream but she’s not listening to it. They aren’t real, just demons. But the ogre almost got Ser Barris.” Cole wrung his hands as he appeared at Varric’s shoulder, eyes downcast. “What’s an ogre, Varric?”

That succeeded in killing his grin, a grim look replacing it. “I’ll tell you when you’re older, kid. Hopefully you’ll never meet one.” He twisted slightly and picked up his drink, addressing the group. “Fearlings rattled her, she’s feeling a bit tender at the moment.”

Dorian sat upright in his chair as far from the Iron Bull as he could conceivably get, though he still had a line of sight on the Qunari, “A fear demon? Those usually need a rift nearby. Although, I suppose with a city that terrorised it’s feasible it was drawn in. Ghastly.” The mage shuddered as he draped his arm over the back of his chair and reclined against the edge of the table. 

The Seeker settled onto the nearest barstool, her face paling briefly before setting, “She had no warning at all. I cannot imagine what it must have been like, suddenly being placed right back into that position.”

At first glance, seeing her room empty of the occupants she shared it with, it was hard for Esra not to throw the helmet in her hands. With a slight tremor, her grip tightened on it as she placed it in its chest and sat down. Taking the entire suit off without aid expended a great deal of effort but she lay back on the bed in relief as she finally was free of it. Her second skin, as it had once been. 

Esra wasn’t sure if she had dozed off or simply lost focus, but the entrance of another being into the dark room startled her up onto her feet. Brandel and another woman stumbled to a halt almost as quickly as they noticed her, “Ah, sorry, we didn’t think…”

With a chuckle, Esra held her hands up, “I know nothing. I need to meet some people at the tavern. Have a good night, Brandel.”

Stuffing her hands beneath her arms to warm them against the chill of the air, she paused as excitedly whispers met her ears. “That was her! The Royal Guardswoman. Yes, with the gold armour!”

Well, shit. She was going to have to find a quieter and more hidden place to sleep. 

“She’s here!” Cole’s excited voice was the first thing she noticed as she stomped snow from her feet just before stepping into the rustic bar, both brows rising in surprise as she looked around at the crowded group.

“Seeker Pentaghast, I’m going to assume all money traded hands before I arrived?”

A smug smirk crossed her face as she gave the rest of her suddenly sheepish group an imperious stare. “You would be quite correct in that assumption.”

Esra snorted and approached the fireplace, extending her hands to warm them as she winked at Bull who sat near it rather than in his usual place. “As long as no one honestly believed I fell off my horse.”

The Qunari’s eye narrowed as he turned his gaze on Varric. “You little thief. Give me back my money and what you owe me.”

“For shame, Varric. You actually told everyone I fell off my horse? And the rest of you, do you have such little faith in me?” Despite the angst in her voice and the scars on her cheek, the smile was hard to hide as the banter all focused on a new target, the wayward dwarf.

Cassandra and Leliana departed within the first hour, amusing Esra to know end as Varric finally suggested cards as soon as he was sure Leliana was gone. Oddly enough, an hour or two later, Bull left soon after Dorian did. Cole flickered in and out, excitedly chattering to Solas as he came down as the bar closed and those left moved out into the cold courtyard. 

“Lieutenant.” The apostate elf pulled her aside for a moment as Cullen and Varric bickered quietly. 

“Apologies, hahren, I don’t answer to that anymore. Esra works just fine, what can I do for you?” Esra smiled faintly at the odd man, still unsure how to act around him but resorting to her experience with Keeper Lanaya.

For a moment, he seemed taken aback but then relaxed into a smile of his own, “Esra, then. It isn’t often I find humans who refer to me so, forgive my confusion, lethallan. Where did you learn your elven?”

Esra shrugged, awkward from being so suddenly put on the spot. “I lived in the Brecilian Forest, Solas. I’ve only had contact with the Dalish there for several years. It seemed polite to learn how to speak as they did. I also had a good friend once who was a city elf. Swore like a sailor.”

The mage laughed slightly and nodded, “That was decent of you, lethallan, regardless of your reasons. Ah, I’ve gotten distracted, I want you to have this. Perhaps it will help you sleep. I have too much of it and I really do despise tea.” With both hands, he presented a small and rather plain wooden box, “Have a good night’s rest, you’ve earned it.”

The warrior took the box with eyes wide in surprise, staring at it as the apostate turned on his heel and drifted back towards the stairs and vanished into Skyhold’s warm glow. Opening it, it was filled with tea leaves and nestled within them was a sieve of a silvery metal, polished to a gleam. “Nails?”

Glancing up, she saw that Varric and Cullen had finished their discussion, at least for now. Instead they stared at her from a few feet away, Cullen’s hands clasped at his back and Varric’s arms folded again. “You good, Nails?”

Clearing her throat quietly, she closed the box and gave them a slightly more relaxed grin, wandering over to them with her gift tucked carefully beneath her arm. “I’m good. Exhausted, but good. It’s been a long few weeks. I also probably still smell like sweaty horse.”

Cullen shook his head, “Varric simply doesn’t have a sense of smell anymore. Everything smells like sweaty horse to him now, I’m almost positive.”

“Perhaps he’s the one who smells like sweaty horse and it’s so strong he can’t smell anything else over it?” It took work but Esra managed a look of concern as she ran her free hand along her jaw.

He waved a hand at them both with a snort, “Laugh it up, I get the picture. I’ll leave you two to find someone else to abuse and malign. See you in the morning, Nails. It’s bed time for all of us before the snark gets worse.”

The Commander chuckled as the dwarf found his way back into Skyhold in Solas’ wake. Cole hadn’t been seen in quite some time but Esra wasn’t sure exactly when the last time was that she could recall seeing him. For a moment, she and Cullen stood quietly, unsure of what to say while all their good conversationalists were gone for the night. He startled her by breaking the silence first, “Ah, well.”

Esra waited a moment and then her grin widened as he shifted his weight, “Well. I suppose we should call it a night as well, Commander.”

“Perhaps, but one matter of business before you go.” He seemed to rush the words, as if afraid he might take them back. “I’m heading into Ferelden on some minor business tomorrow. Since you made it back before I left, I was wondering… although you’re probably tired of travel, I simply wanted to put the offer before you.” He coughed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

Both brows climbed toward her hairline again, the left pulled at an odd angle at the corner by a scar at her temple. “I didn’t think you ever left Skyhold, Commander. If you require an escort, I’d be happy to join you.”

He nodded, “It won’t take long, Sister Leliana can handle my affairs until I return. That’s… good. Well, we should definitely get some sleep then so neither of us are falling from our horses.”

Feeling the burning ache in her own eyes, she nodded in agreement and fought back a yawn that had snuck up on her. “Then, in the morning, Commander.” Wrapping her arms around herself against the cold once more, she left his side to return to her dormitory. At least she would get her bed back for one night. As rickety as the thing was, she had a growing appreciation for it over horseback and barely covered ground.

Esra tilted her head up and shaded her eyes with one hand, a frown across her face as she tried to judge the time of day. They were somewhere within the Hinterlands, that much she was sure of. In fact, they had just left it a few hours ago after Cullen had met with Corporal Vale at the refugee camp. It had caused quite a stir that the Commander himself had come to speak with them and the sense of spirits lifting was obvious on every awed face she had seen. Thank the Maker she’d worn simple chainmail instead of her full armour.

“Commander? There’s still light, should we keep going towards Skyhold or is this the best place to stop? Why do I feel like we went too far south?” 

Cullen smiled awkwardly as he dismounted and secured his horse, a quiet sigh escaping into the misty air as he wandered toward the edge of the lake they had stopped next to and down its dock. “Just a small detour. I needed the reminder and… I wanted to give you a break from the fighting for an hour or two. Ever since you arrived at Skyhold you’ve been in complete turmoil. Take a breath and put it all away.”

More than a little confused, Esra slowly dismounted and tied her horse next to his in the late evening light. She gripped the back of her neck with one hand as she drifted to the edge of the lake herself. “It’s… a pretty nice place, Cullen. I’ll give you that.” In the pale mist coming off the water she could smell dew, crisp with the onset of a chilly night. Her ears picked up nothing but insects and a sleepy herd of druffalo over the gurgle of the water against the underside of the dock’s creaky wooden planks. “Where are we?”

“Near Honnleath. I used to come here to get away from my siblings. I have three. I love them dearly but every now in then it was good to just be still. They always found me eventually, of course. Mia, my oldest sister, is especially good at finding me. I have a habit of forgetting to tell her I’m being relocated, or even that I’m still alive, it annoys her to no end.” He leaned idly against a post at the end of the dock with a surprisingly wistful expression on his face. “A quiet place to clear our head. Away from being in danger or constant struggle.”

Esra watched the man for a moment and then settled onto the grass near where the water lapped at sandy dirt. “It’s easy to see how it helps. A relaxing sort of place. You never mentioned your family until now, or much of your history before you joined the Templars.”

He turned to face her, folding his arms and glancing up at the fading sky, “I haven’t been back here since I joined the Templar’s training, as a matter of fact. Besides, it seems fair. I know a bit about your brother, although not much. And that your family came from Orlais.”

“I can barely remember my parents, truth be told. I remember the smell of my father cleaning his swords and oiling them, and mother baking. I can’t picture them, nor even our house. I’m not sure if I have much to tell about them, not right now at least. One of the Orlesian doctors the Captain hired said it might come back as the bad memories fade but… they hadn’t lost any power until recently.” She brought her knees up and rested her arms upon them, staring out across the water.

After a long hesitation, he made his way to join her, sitting down at her side as quietly as he could with the clank of his armour. “Melisande, you’ve won. Whether those memories come back, or the others fade, you’ve won. You didn’t just survive, you took up the mantle again and an entire town now knows the Golden Mabari means they’re saved. Sooner or later, the story will spread and people will remember that it belonged to Cailan Theirin of Ferelden. You saved him.”

Dark brows knit together and her head tilted slightly at his last words, a thought striking her when she had been patiently listening to him say what he and so many others had tried to drill into her cluttered head. “I suppose… in a way. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

His smile flickered back to life for a moment and he nodded, “You brought him back, gave life to his cause again with your actions. Even if it’s just in memory.” One hand hesitantly came to rest on her shoulder. “The battle took ten years, but I’d say you should count this as a victory finally.”

“It’s… something to think about, Cullen.” The idea had loosened something that had held tightly in her chest, as if she could take a deep breath for the first time since she had been discovered at Skyhold. Something struck her suddenly, distracting her from the heavier topic. “Your Mia, did you contact her after Haven?”

Startled, he coughed and rubbed at the back of his head, releasing her shoulder, “Ah, no. Actually. Her letter was rather verbose about my neglect as well. I know exactly how she felt about it. I haven’t seen them in a long time, between my duties as a Templar and now the Inquisition. Perhaps once this is done and over with I should visit, it might ease her dissatisfaction with me.” Cullen leaned back on his hands as he surveyed the water before them. 

She shook her head at him with a smirk and leaned forward a bit to rest her chin upon her folded arms. The sounds of the lake reigned as it reflected the sunset. 

“I like this place. I think this is the first time I’ve literally thought of absolutely nothing.”

Cullen chuckled again, “That’s what it’s here for.”


	30. Rescue From Jader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esra finds herself in a bit of a pickle with some of the more fashionable elite within Skyhold's halls but a last second invitation from Ser Barris spares her, for now at least. An abomination has been rumoured in Jader just over the Orlesian border. As it turns out, he's simply a new mage and is brought in safely. 
> 
> *I really am sorry. I got really sick all of a sudden but I'm fighting through the last of it now. Here is the chapter from two weeks ago. Tomorrow I'll post the one for last week. This weekend will be busy but if I can't get this weekend's posted by Sunday I'll post it Monday for sure. Extra information on these stories, assorted one time drabbles, and the new stories I'll be starting on Ao3 on my tumblr https://ghil-dirthalen.tumblr.com/

“Varric, I need your help.” With a furtive glance around the hall like a woman chased by wolves, Esra gripped the dwarf by the sleeve where he leaned against the fireplace looking through his mail and tugged him into the hallway toward Solas’ sanctuary. They did not go much further, although she checked to make sure no one was following as she closed the door.

He couldn’t help a startled laugh as he straightened himself, “Woah, Nails. I’ve never seen you this ruffled, is this about Curly? If so I have so much advice.”

Esra’s expression was quizzical as she leaned against the door and folded her arms, trying to look casual instead of appearing to be deliberately holding it closed. “What? No! What are you on about? There’s nothing to be ruffled about with the Commander. No, I don’t want to know what you’re trying to think up.” She held up a hand, the other pressing over her eyes as she tried to recollect her thoughts.

“Ah, maybe you two aren’t doing something right then.”

The glare she shot him was impressive and, he decided, rather satisfying. Not ruffled, indeed. “Hush, Varric. I know it’s hard for you to stop talking for even two minutes but I have a serious issue.”

Thick eyebrows shot up and he felt a twinge of concern he never normally allowed himself as he held his hands up in a peaceful gesture, “Alright, Nails. Comments curbed. What’s going on that has you so upset?”

A deep frown creased her face and her head tilted slightly as though instinct had her checking over her shoulder even though the door blocked her view. “The advisors are planning ahead for the ball at Halamshiral and the list of soldiers going got out. Not that it needed hiding, precisely… Ugh, anyway, Vivienne and Dorian discovered that I’m to go as part of the Commander’s guard once the Empress agreed to a small group of Inquisition forces. Vivienne keeps tracking me down and insisting that I cannot represent the Inquisition looking like an Avvar barbarian and that I must let her do something with styling my hair and face. Dorian seems to think it’s hilarious and has been arguing with her over it all. I’m terrified they’ll go to Josephine, I know she’ll take their side because she’s so obsessed with our image. I need you to help me hide from all three of them for the next month or so until we get on the road to the palace.”

She hadn’t intended for it to come out in such a jumbled rush but the quickly bitten back grin on his face had made her even more anxious. Of course, he would find the situation vastly entertaining, but hopefully not so much that he would refuse her request. 

Clearing his throat slightly, Varric stuffed his hands into his pockets and schooled his features, “What about the idea has you rattled? It’s a bit of a fuss, but give her an hour and Vivienne will be out of your hair, literally.”

“I’m a soldier, not a doll, Varric. I’m not going to Orlais to look pretty, I’m going there to potentially kill people.” Her headache was growing rather steadily, possibly due to the grinding in her jaw from her teeth, so she rested her head back against the door with two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose to try and alleviate it somewhat.

“Tell you what, I’ll help you avoid them for a few days. Cassandra is out with the Inquisitor right now but when she gets back try talking to her. She’ll understand not wanting to be fussed over but maybe she can show you how to do that braid thing she picked up in Nevarra. It’ll get them to leave you alone but it’s still functional enough to keep you happy.” Varric shrugged with a faint smile, one hand rising to rub at his jaw as he tried to remember where Dorian had gotten to. Vivienne was usually on her balcony, and Josephine hardly left her desk, but Sparkler could be bloody anywhere. He’d also be the easiest to shake off, he knew all about being forced to maintain a certain image when he didn’t want to.

“Maker, Varric, you’re a genius.” The relief made her slump slightly as she resisted the sudden urge to hug the dwarf. “This is why I bring these little things to you. Tell Cabot you’re on my tab tonight.”

“Oh, I definitely will. Get out of here, Nails. All three of them spend most of their time in here instead of wandering the grounds. You’ll be safer walking the walls or hiding in the stable. Vivienne can’t stand Blackwall so you know she won’t go there.” He snorted before waving her off and scooting around her to return to the main hall as she stepped away from the door.

Bundling her coat close, Esra took a hesitant glance across the hall and then made her way back down the stairs to the main courtyard. A few days would be a lot more manageable than the long weeks until the ball was scheduled at Halamshiral. The Chargers were sparring again, Dalish’s annoyance with their constant teasing obvious as she yelled at the others. Trying not to grin too obviously, the veteran settled onto a bundle of wooden boards that had been lashed together and stored at the edge of the yard across from the tavern.

“Esra! Just who I was looking for.” The cheerful voice jarred her over an hour later, her body jolting as she jerked herself back from running away upon the realisation that the male voice was not Dorian’s by any stretch of the imagination. Ser Barris gave her a questioning glance as he drew closer, “Are you alright?”

She managed an awkward laugh as one hand smoothed down the fall of straight hair only to be replaced be a frown as she felt the thick down across the other half of her scalp. It was about time to decide if she was brave enough to let it grow out or if she was going to shave it down again. The months at Skyhold had been distracting enough that she had forgotten to maintain it. “I’m hiding from a pair of fashion forward mages. What can I do for you, Ser Barris?”

The Templar was startled enough by her response that he actually laughed, “Maker, I don’t envy you. However, if hiding is what you’re trying to do then I might be able to help you instead. Lady Montilyet received word of a possible abomination causing an uproar in Jader. It’s just over the border in Orlais so I don’t expect the entire journey to take much longer than a week and a half. I thought I’d extend another invitation to you while we go investigate it.”

“Ah, even better. I’ll be completely out of reach, count me in. When do we leave?” Standing with a stretch, Esra rubbed at her bad shoulder as it complained, stiff from the cold. 

“In about two hours. If we leave on time we’ll have a few hours light to make some headway. It sounds like the situation is tense but the Ambassador called in some favours with the nobility to hold the mage in question to minimise the danger presented. I want to get there as quickly as I can, so only a small contingent is going.”

Well that was fast, but not much of a surprise. “I’ll be there, Ser Barris. What should I be prepared for? This isn’t something I have experience with.”

Ser Barris nodded and frowned slightly, “If the man has become an abomination, we negate his magic and put him out of his misery as swiftly and cleanly as possible. There may be demons summoned but hopefully not too many. If he isn’t an abomination then our biggest problem will be getting him out of there before scared people riot and try to kill him themselves. In all honesty, I’m a bit more worried about that than the former. Keep your blade sheathed until we know what we’re facing.”

“A solid plan. I’ll follow your lead, see you in a few hours.” Shaking his hand, Esra watched him leave to gather his men. Cassandra would certainly be back before her now; the first order of business would be to find Varric and let him know that his task had just gotten infinitely easier. Hopefully the Seeker would still be here when she returned from Jader. 

An hour and a half later, dressed in her full armour again with her greatsword strapped to her back, she decided that it was going to be impossible to find the man unless she got some help. “Slippery dwarf.” She sighed as she climbed the stairs of the tavern toward the third floor, glancing around. “Cole?”

A gasp sounded as the boy seemed to just appear in front of her, his pale eyes wide behind dirty blond bangs. “Cole! That’s me! You remembered me. Really remembered. Thin boy, flickers. Here then not here. Have to work to not forget… the third floor. Yes, here I am. You found me.” 

His smile made her own twitch to life. There was just something so pure about him he was hard not to adore the more she got used to his quirks. “It seems I did, Cole. I’m doing my best. Do you suppose you can help me find Varric?”

“Varric. He pulls me. Yes, I can find him.” Cole seemed to stare through the walls before he turned to walk up the smallest set of stairs and across a small bridge onto the walls of Skyhold. Turning towards the right, he led her along the wall and down some stairs, “She always flies away but he has no right to hold her while he is tethered. It isn’t fair to her. You can shake off the cord, it tastes like smoke. It isn’t good for you either, Varric.”

As they came to a stop next to the dwarf on a small platform halfway down the stairs from the wall, Varric smiled faintly. “It’ll work out one way or the other, kid. Nothing to do about it right now. What’s up?” He tore his gaze from the skyline and folded his arms across his chest with his signature smirk.

“Well, I had been looking for you and couldn’t find you so I asked Cole here for some help. Ser Barris has asked for me to join the Templars on another outing. He said it should take less than two weeks. So…” Esra managed an awkward grin, her right shoulder lifting in a shrug. 

He was nodding already but a bushy brow arched, “That’s fine, makes life easier. I hadn’t worked my way to talking to anyone yet. Are you going to be alright on this one, Nails?”

Esra’s responding nod of confirmation held more confidence than he had seen out of her in the months since they had met at Haven combined. “I’ll be fine. It’s one mage, even if there are demons there won’t be as many as Val Colline. Ser Barris expects this to be a fast one, doesn’t even want us to draw weapons going in. He’s hoping for a peaceful resolution.”

“Looks like it’s under control. Be safe, I’ll let the Seeker know you’re trying to meet up with her when she gets back, for your sake I hope she can stick around.” He clapped her on the arm as he passed her with a broad smile, a glance from the corner of his eye validating his suspicions that Curly was watching her from his office again. 

Cole smiled up at her, “You can breathe again. Loosening, not gone but not as sharp. More of you. I’m glad the pieces are coming back.”

Before she could respond, Esra blinked and turned around on the platform in a bewildered search. She swore there had been someone here, she could recall it almost clearly. Cole! Shaking herself, she rolled her eyes and sighed. Well, he had gotten the last word in this time with his vanishing act. Below her she could see the Templars coordinating and hurried down to join them with a salute to Ser Barris. “Ready and willing to serve.”

The nearly four day ride to Jader had been far more eventful than the trip to Val Colline for some reason. A few of the Templars theorised that it was due to the proximity of Halamshiral. The Orlesian Civil War had a death grip on the land and several random groups attacked them whether they hid from the main road or not. In the end Ser Barris had settled for using the road to Jader since it was faster and no less or more dangerous. 

“Praise the Maker, you’re here finally!” The panicked voice of a guard preceded him as he rushed toward them from the open gate house. “Everything’s been tense but one of the men got sick last night and now everyone’s in an uproar.”

Ser Barris’ face turned grim and his horse began to pace anxiously as it picked up on his sudden focus, “Where?”

The relief on the guard’s face was obvious as he pointed, “Follow this road to the market and make the second left on the circle. From there you should be able to hear the racket.”

Turning his horse, Ser Barris narrowed his eyes before flipping his visor down on his helmet. “No swords until I give the word but don’t hesitate to use your shields. We don’t want to make this worse but control needs to be maintained.” His voice was clipped and brooked no argument, although none was coming, and he kicked his horse into speed through the smaller city’s streets. 

Shouts of stand back and angry responses demanding the mage be handed over could be heard before they even saw the large crowd of thirty to fifty people. More were filtering in from side streets but Ser Barris quickly directed his men to block them. 

“Alright! I don’t want anyone hurt. I’m coming out. Please… just don’t hurt them.” A shaky, rather young, voice piped up as a young man who was barely more than a child with terrified eyes and his hands raised slipped from the house the guard protected. The noise swelled to a crescendo as the guard nearest him swore and lunged to protect the boy but the mob was faster. 

An angry Templar was not one to be in front of. Ser Barris was off his horse in an instant, striding forward with his shield before him and not slowing down as people stumbled out of his way or fell against others as he cleaved his way through them. A startled cry arose when it began to register that Ser Barris was present and people scattered back a bit faster until he was standing over the guard and the child she had pulled beneath her after a struggle that had torn the boy’s shirt.

“Is this the spirit of justice amongst you all? This is a child, a human child. Look at his face and his fear. Have you no shame? He offers himself up to protect those who should be guarding him and uses no magic to defend himself, this is not the horrible vision of an abomination.” Ser Barris’ voice was crisp and disappointed as he waited to make sure no one would rush him again before removing his helmet.

“He burned down part of a barn before we could get the fire under control, Ser. Illness has become rampant since then.” 

“Two of my cows died!”

Barris held up a hand, “Unwanted losses, all of them, but no need for violence and murder. Even if he had been an abomination, none of you were equipped to handle such a thing without extensive losses. You knew he was contained and that we had been called. I urge you to have trust in our ability to handle these things, it is what we pledge our very lives to. Return to your homes.”

The response was grudging and Ser Barris had to have further discussion with some of the livelier members of the mob but they were eventually dispersed. As the rest of the members trudged back through the streets, the Templars fanned out further to lock down the street and alleys outside of the house.

Rising gingerly, the guard rubbed at a few reddening areas on her face and neck, helping the boy to his feet where he looked pale and trembled. “Thank you, Ser Barris. Your arrival was timely indeed. This is Noam Willit, his father is missing, we presume based on his past actions he may have joined the Freemen of the Dales. If it weren’t for Lord Edmond, we wouldn’t have been able to keep the boy safe.”

Esra couldn’t help a faint grin as Ser Barris crouched down and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Noam, my name is Ser Barris. Are you hurt?”

Noam’s eyes were wide and tear-filled, but he did his best to straighten his ruined shirt and shook his head. Exhaustion plagued his features, making his blue eyes appear sunken by darkened circles. “Can you tell me what happened, then?”

After a short story of nightmares and waking up to flames, the Templar squeezed his shoulder. “It’s alright, son. You’ve been given a gift, something only the Maker could give you. You must learn control, however, just as with any other skill. I need you to come with us and we can assign you someone to train you. Do you understand?”

The relief nearly sagged the boy to the ground as he nodded, “Anything, please. I can’t sleep and I can’t stay here.”

Esra volunteered to let the young man ride on her horse with her, even with her hard armour he was asleep swiftly and his head lolled against her shoulder. Ser Barris decided it was going to be far safer to leave the disgruntled town immediately and avoid further disruption from the citizens of Jader. “If anything happens on the way back as it did journeying here, keep a tight hold on Noam and stay to the centre of the group. Let us take the offensive. If he starts to panic, we’ll douse his magic before it gets out of hand.” He brought his horse close to Esra’s and nodded to her slumbering bundle. 

Thankfully they returned to Skyhold with only a few minor injuries. Thrice the young mage’s abilities had run wild in response to his fear only for one of the Templars to subdue it. Seeing his guardians control it so well had instilled the boy with awe. He hovered near one of the Templars at all times unless he was on her horse. 

It was dark as they came through the gates but someone had passed the word along as a few fresh Templars awaited them with Cullen. The last hour or so had been a hard push with the mountain snow and Esra’s chin rested on the mageling’s head, almost as asleep as he was. “He’s new to his powers, Commander Cullen, but he’s already learning to rely on us. I think with proper instruction he’ll be just fine.” Ser Barris reached out to take Noam from Esra and she wearily handed him down, stifling a yawn as she slipped down herself. 

Cullen nodded to a Templar beside him who gathered the child and carried him into the halls far above them. He was watching Esra, his expression softly thoughtful in a way she didn’t quite understand as Ser Barris and the other Templars led the horses to the stables. She cleared her throat, “Is Seeker Pentaghast still here?”

“Ah, yes. Varric mentioned your predicament and she’s both amused and ready to help.” He smiled faintly, that scar tugging a bit. 

Esra groaned briefly and took her helmet from where it had been hooked safely onto the back of her saddle. “It defeats the purpose of hiding if everyone knows I’m hiding. Blasted dwarf.”

Cullen chuckled and shook his head, folding his arms. “Tomorrow we’re hosting a small event for Ser Barris and the Templars. You should come with all the support you’ve been giving them. After, of course, you talk to Cassandra. I believe Josephine has it penned in for later in the afternoon so that the Inquisitor can get some rest before she is present. She arrived shortly before you did with Iron Bull, Solas, and Vivienne.”

She stretched and reached back to unbuckle her armour, her stiff shoulder resisting. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll consider tomorrow booked up.”

“Let me help with that, have you been taking care of your shoulder? Perhaps you should add seeing the talented Elan to your schedule.” He arched a brow at her, suddenly looking a bit more firm as he stepped closer and worked the breastplate loose. The straps didn’t want to release after riding through the cold but eventually it was in her hands and she was trying to decide why she felt so awkward about the situation.

The muscle balked at the movement as she tried to roll her shoulders again, “Actually, I’ll get up early and do that first. I may have forgotten a few stretches and exercises.”

The Commander shook his head, “That won’t do, Melisande, your service depends on your physical condition. Do try to remember that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She smirked and gave him a salute before turning to walk back to her barracks, but as he returned to his office he sighed at a familiar sight. Varric just grinned and held his hands up, “Don’t try to say a single thing, Curly. I won’t believe a word.”


	31. Breathing Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a month of running across Orlais and Ferelden, Esra finds herself with a week or two to simply relax and recoup before the uncertain events of Halamshiral. The idea of an Orlesian ball is made even more terrifying by the thought that Vivienne and Josephine might pounce on their scarred veteran soldier while Dorian and Varric laugh. Esra spends her first day surprisingly busy, catching up with a few friends before and after getting a special invitation for the Templars.

“Ah, I had a feeling you would still be asleep. Did you not even bother getting out of the rest of your armour?” 

Esra groaned and clapped her hands over her face as a familiarly classical voice filtered into her sleep only to be followed by a rush of cold as the blanket was pulled back. Voice slurred, her fingers rubbed her eyes, “You’re not my real mother.”

Cassandra chuckled as she reached down to shake her shoulder lightly, “No, I am not. However, we have limited time before we need to be in the great hall and we have several things which need done. Unless you no longer desire my aid?”

That smug threat was enough to have the weary warrior rolling herself into a sitting position and working her armour pieces from her legs with a yawn. “No need to be like that, I’m up. Just let me get cleaned up. I’ll meet you by the sparring ring in ten minutes?”

The Seeker folded her arms but smirked faintly, “As you wish, I shall see you then.”

Placing her armour pieces in the chest where the top half already rested, she grabbed a fresh set of clothes and stumbled into an adjoining room with a small basin to clean up as quickly as she could, rubbing her eyes firmly. Esra’s eyes watered as she stifled another yawn, looking bleary but a bit more aware as she dressed and tossed the other clothes lazily on top of her bag before heading out.   
Her timing was perhaps not perfect but it was close enough as she met her Nevarran friend at the base of the stone steps. “So, Varric told you what’s going on?” Idly she stuffed her hands into her pockets, bundling into her long coat with a shiver. 

“He told me enough. Even if I help you, there is a chance it may not appease Madame Vivienne or Lady Josephine.” Cassandra began the walk up into the vaulted hall, turning left to lead the pair toward the apothecary.

Movement came slow, her back achingly stiff as she trudged across the chilly stone, “It might help me convince them to meet in the middle. I’ve got to try or Vivienne will turn me into an actual Orlesian.”

Cassandra feigned a shudder and tried to hide her smile. It wasn’t often she encountered someone even grumpier than herself, “Perish the thought. That is a terrible way to go. We can address that once you have seen Miss Ve’mal, you look terrible.”

“Thank you for your honesty.” The deadpan tone made the smile impossible for Cassandra to hide further as she watched Esra leave her side to approach the already stern Elan Ve’mal.

Catlike eyes narrowed as the elven apothecary gripped Esra firmly by the shoulder and turned her around, unforgiving fingers following long memorised curves of scar tissue. “Well, you haven’t done too much new damage, that’s good at least. When is the last time you did any of the stretches we agreed upon?”

Esra scuffed a foot across the ground, suddenly feeling like that one time her mother caught her sneaking cookies into the Circle tower near them. “I do them occasionally but not with any regularity.”

“You struck me as more responsible than that. Disappointing. Come along, we need to work this out before it unravels all of the work we’ve done so far.” The elf’s tone was icy as she pushed the warrior ahead of her but as they approached her office door, Cassandra swore the apothecary winked at her. The Seeker couldn’t help a small grin as she shook her head and leaned against the edge of the well.

When the pair returned, Esra was red in the face and trying her best not to hunch over. “Stand straight as you can. It’ll be sore for a few days, but you should do alright. Do those blighted stretches. Your muscle is torn, the faster you comprehend that, the faster it will heal correctly this time.” Elan arched a brow with her crisp words, prodding at a bit of her patient’s back so that Esra arched slightly and flinched away. 

Esra smirked weakly, “I always knew you cared. I’ll be more careful now, instead of getting swept up in the happenings. The last thing I would ever want is all of this a second time.”

Elan nodded in smug satisfaction, “That’s the point of it. Have a good day.”

Cassandra and Esra waited quietly as they were left alone once more. The latter rubbed at her eyes and wiped her hands of dampness onto her tunic from where they had watered. “How bad is it, truly?”

With both hands, Esra straightened and cracked her neck before yawning. “Blighted Orlesians. They managed to keep me alive, but that’s all the credit I’ll give them. The muscle in my back along my entire left side is…” Frowning, she tried to recall the word and rubbed the back of her head, “I suppose degraded? It’s not the right word but it fits. There was too much damage for it to ever return to normal. The scar tissue is useable as long as we keep it stretched and as healthy as possible.”

“Have you ever let a friend see?” Turning away, the pair wandered the edge of the garden and climbed the stairs to the level above it, seeking out a quiet room. 

Pulling a chair in from another room, Esra shrugged. “Not that I can think of. I haven’t had friends. I knew the Captain but I couldn’t face him so I cut him out along with the rest of the past.” Cassandra settled to sit on the desk in the room and waited patiently as Esra set the chair down facing her and sat backwards in it. 

There was a brief hesitation where Cassandra started to reach for Esra’s hair, before the woman reached with her right hand to grip the back of her shirt. It was a struggle to pull it up for a moment but the Seeker had sucked in a shocked breath, aiding her. Sunken, off-tone skin stretched in a line nearly an inch wide at points from her left shoulder down to her right hip. It had something that was nearly a shine to it, certainly looking stretched. The skin around it was reddened and layers of pale bruising followed its length. On her left, a slightly thinner scar wrapped around her side, riding low on her ribcage. She flinched as cold fingers traced part of the larger one. “Melisande… These were to the bone. How was your back not broken?”

Unsettled by the sudden compassion and pain in her companion’s voice, her shoulders rolled to allow the shirt to fall again. She cleared her throat awkwardly, “They guessed that I must have just fallen with the hit instead of tensing to resist it. I could have told them as much. Then there was the months of wondering how I didn’t bleed out, how I didn’t get the Blight. It was a long year.”

It took only a moment for the Seeker to school herself into calm, feeling the creeping discomfort in her new friend. “Well, I think the thing that would be best is to hide the scars on your left.” As she spoke, she ran her hands through Esra’s hair and parted it high on the right side of her head, tilting her own as she let it fall to cover scarring on her scalp. “They are recognisable and this way it will be harder to point you out in a crowd such as the ball.” A pensive hum left her as she watched the way the hair lay for a moment. “It will not want to stay, so let me try something.”

Minutes ticked by as the Nevarran braided loosely, “I have not had long hair in some time. You can do quite a lot with it, it seems. I may have found something that will appease our fashionable Orlesian, Antivan, and Tevinter. Just a moment more.” Deft fingers tugged lightly and her weight shifted before she rose and came around only to nod with a sudden glimmer of pride.

Esra glanced at her with a certain lack of confidence before reaching back slightly. A loose braid wrapped from above her right temple and down to end in a soft roll like a braided bun at the back of her head towards the left. It kept a gentle drape of her black hair trapped. She physically sat back as Cassandra lifted a small mirror, “Andraste’s pyre… I look like I’ve got a full head of hair. Are you certain Seekers can’t use magic?”

Cassandra clearly shook her head, though a laugh glittered in her eyes, “As I said before, you have a lot of hair to work with even though it is only on one side. This is a bit more relaxed, I’m sure it would be even easier to do a more functional braid if you were not as worried about appearances.”

Reaching out, Esra tilted her head to see into the mirror from a different angle. “As long as they don’t try to put me in a blighted dress. I’m going there to fight.”

“The Ambassador has mentioned uniforms, but I am not sure if our troops will be wearing them as well to blend more or if they will be in armour.” Cassandra took a pace toward the window and waved for Esra to come along. “The Templars are gathering in the Hall. It appears we finished just in time for you to test out your new look.”

The Great Hall was filling before the throne of the Inquisitor with most of the Templars still under the command of Commander Cullen. The Inquisitor sat upon it with Cullen standing at her side. A moment later, Ser Barris came striding down the room’s expanse only to look a little alarmed when he saw the numbers present. Straightening, he did not slow his pace and clasped his hands at his back. “You sent for me, Inquisitor?”

Rather than answering, she allowed Cullen to pick up the cue. He stepped forward, his stance relaxed, “Knight-Templar Delrin Barris. We have gathered to review your military service to the Inquisition. You showed exceptional valour defending the people of Val Colline from Venatori, and broke a siege of demons in Ansberg.” 

Esra’s eyes widened as she caught on to the low hum of excitement, leaning towards the Seeker beside her to converse quietly, “Ansberg? When did that happen? I recall the demons in Val Colline after they removed the Venatori but…”

Cassandra rested a hand on her arm, “Shh, you can ask them later. The Commander is working up to the best part. It seems he has a flair for dramatics when he wishes to.” 

“You stood against an entire town that wanted to kill a mage for imagined demonic possession. Without raising a sword.” Cullen’s lips twisted in a faint smile as he shifted his weight to the other foot.

The elf on the throne spoke up finally, her tone clear, “In thanks for your service, and your help at Therinfal Redoubt, I endorse your promotion to Knight-Commander of the Templar Order.”

Shock showed in his stance, although Esra couldn’t see his face from here. He knelt, trying to find words to the emotions he was feeling. “Your Worship. I… I am not worthy.”

Apparently, Inquisitor Lavellan disagreed, “You’ve shown loyalty, determination, courage… as all Templars should.”

Caught up in the moment, Esra’s smile widened and she took a step closer into the ranks of the Templars with his response, “I will honour your faith in me.”

“Templars. Will you take Ser Barris as your Knight-Commander?” The call rang out and the pride was plain on Cullen’s face, though she doubted Ser Barris saw it as he rose and turned to face his men. The salute echoed in the high hall. 

Esra stepped back as the Templars crowded Ser Barris with congratulations. Glancing up, the Inquisitor had snuck out in an instant but the Commander was circling the group and making his way to Ser Barris. Shaking the man’s hand with a murmur, he left them to their celebration… coming straight to her.

He slowed as he came within a few feet, his gaze roving across her face before falling to the ground as if he realised he was staring. The smile he settled for was slightly bashful, “Melisande. I’m glad you made it. You’ve been part of this for Ser Barris, Templar or not.” Hesitating again, he fidgeted and clasped his hands behind his back. “You… have done something with your hair? It looks… nice.” She wasn’t sure if his voice softened because he didn’t want to be overheard or if he didn’t even realise he was doing so.

Maker, the man was adorable. 

Taking a breath, she resisted the urge to reach up and check her hair again, also avoiding looking toward where Varric normally stood. “Thank you, Ser. It was Cassandra’s doing. Vivienne and Josephine…” She trailed off but by the amused light in his eyes he had gotten the picture.

“I am sure it will work perfectly. Are you prepared for Halamshiral? I wasn’t sure if you had been made aware…” This was going to catch someone’s notice fast if neither of them finished a sentence. 

“The ball? I was actually intending to ask after I heard the Ambassador mention uniforms. It would be comforting to know for certain that the Enchantress can’t force me into a ghastly Orlesian gown.” She smiled, trying to make this encounter a bit more relaxed, and was relieved when he responded in kind.

“Oh, Maker no. I can’t imagine how difficult fighting would be in skirts. Hopefully there won’t be any, but we need to be prepared. I was wondering if you minded wearing Inquisition armour for just the one night so you don’t stand out. Being noticeable at an Orlesian event sounds like a recipe for disaster, the last thing I want is for you to be put in danger or singled out.” His posture shifted to something more open, his arms releasing only to fold across his torso. 

Esra nodded slowly in thought, “Of course. Half of those pampered puppies want Gaspard which means they hold a grudge against Maric and Loghain for freeing Ferelden. The Golden Mabari would be a blinding target for all that enmity. I’ll see the Quartermaster for a set that will fit decently as soon as I have time.”

“Perhaps I should allow you to get to that so you have more time to relax before we have to leave at the end of this week.” That soft smile quirked up again as he offered a slightly bow.

Returning the gesture, she gave a one shouldered shrug, “This place is no quiet lake, Cullen. I appreciate the sentiment, however. I will… see you around.”

She pointedly ignored the grinning dwarf as she passed him, descending the stairs down to the courtyard. 

The Commander also made a generous effort not to notice Varric although he had to walk straight past him to return to his office. 

“Esra!” The surprised happiness in the gruff voice caught her attention enough to draw her to a halt as she passed the sparring ring. From behind her a small group of men approached.

All three drew a wide smile to her features, “Sherice! Gannon, Amsel. You three aren’t busy on some project?” 

Sherice gripped her hand firmly as the others came up on either side with a shared glance that suddenly made her suspicious of their reasons. “Haven’t seen you in an age. Hear you’ve been off saving people from this lunacy. Knew you had it in you.”

“She did throw herself off the scaffolding in a storm to catch another worker.” Gannon snorted and clapped her on her sore back with a grin. She managed not to flinch but it was a near thing, he hadn’t meant harm. 

Green eyes pierced her former foreman as she put her hands on her hips. “Sherice, something is up, isn’t it?”

A commotion drew her gaze up higher before the dwarf could respond, her expression going flatly cold at a recognised face in the group now approaching them. The man who had been with Threnn in the tavern the day before she had come clean to her companions. Her friends looked back towards the stairs with her and Amsel’s lip curled. “We heard them. Didn’t think they were feeling very friendly when they mentioned you.”

Blinking with a sigh, Esra pressed a hand to the sudden throbbing in her forehead. “I knew these confrontations were bound to happen when I brought out that bloody armour.”

“We’re with you, kid. No matter what you were then or are now, you chose to be one of us when you got here.” Gannon’s shoulders set and his voice dropped with a low growl. As strong as all three men were, she had no doubt who would win if a fight broke out, but perhaps one could be avoided.

She held a hand up and stepped around Sherice to watch the belligerents approach, idly massaging one hand with the other. “I have nothing to prove to you.”

“Jumping to conclusions? Looks like you should add guilty conscience to traitor and grave robber.” The man snorted, four others and two women behind him. The way they spread out reminded her of birds. 

“Let me correct my statement then. I will not prove anything to you.”

He smirked and made to swing only to find himself on his back, crying out while his hands clasped to his face. His friends jerked to assist him but her own stepped up menacingly as she crouched next to the spluttering worker. “I will not prove anything to you, because you don’t matter to me. I have the respect of those I need to, that is enough. No matter what I say, what graphic detail I go into, you will never believe I was there or that I stayed and fought instead of ran. That I earned that armour with years of sweat, blood, and tears. That I served faithfully. However, you have already proven to me all that I will ever need to know of you. So, I suggest you go to Elan Ve’mal in the gardens to get your nose tended to and keep your opinions to yourself and your witless pack of ingrates before it’s more than rearranged facial structure.”

Esra wasn’t sure if it was the cool tone or her friendly smile, perhaps even the glacial stare, that got through to him, but he scrambled up with a sullen glare to do just as she said. 

Rising to her feet, she winced and rubbed at the opposite hand, “He might be back, but next time he’ll actually be prepared to do more than bluster. Shall we get a drink?”

All three builders looked stunned, but Sherice shook his head and gestured to the tavern. “It’s right there. We’ve got a couple stories you’d enjoy. You uh… instigating on purpose or just don’t gave a shit today?”

It tugged a laugh free as she gave his shoulder a squeeze, the four of them wandering inside in search of a warm fire and heavy alcohol. “A little of both. I wasn’t ready for it, neither was he. It’s going to keep happening until an actual point is made. So, I cut this one short in favour of knowing it’ll be a serious end to all this next time he comes at me. I’m a little glad that Threnn wasn’t here, I would have to take that more seriously since she was there.” She stretched, tapping a fist against the top of the door frame entering the tavern, “I have some stories for you too. You first, so you don’t feel like you have to live up to mine.” 

That caused a round of smirks, cuffs, and snorts of laughter that warmed her down to her toes, suddenly feeling so much like she had around a fire with her men so long ago. This wasn’t replacing them, nothing could, but… it was… really good to have again.


End file.
